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THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 


"JULIAN."  HE  DEMANDED  STERNLY,      WHAT  IS  THE  MEANING  0»  THIS?' 

FRONTISPIECE.    See  page  lit. 


The  DeviFs  Paw 

A  Novel 
By  E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM 

Author  of 

'The  Great  Impersonation"  "The  Box  With  Broken  Seals,'' 
"The  Cinema  Murder,"  "The  Double  Traitor,"  "The 
Hillnuin,"  "The  Illustrious  Prince,"  "The  Lighted 
Way,"  "Lost   Ambassador,"   "The    Mischief 
Maker,"  "Mr.  Grey  of  Monte  Carlo,"  "A 
People's  Man,"  "The  Way  of  These 
Women,"  "The  Zeppelin's  Pas- 
senger," etc. 


With  Frontispiece  by 
H.  WESTON  TAYLOR 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 
Publishers  New  York 

Published  by   arrangement    with    Little,    Brown   and   Company 


Copyright,  1990 
Bt  Little,  Bbown,  and  Compakt. 


All  rights  reserved 

Published  September,  1920 
Reprinted  October,  1920 

Reprinted  November,  1920 
Reprinted  January,  1921 


Slack         ^ 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

The  characters  in  this  story  are  entirely  fictitious 
and  bear  no  relation  to  any  living  person.  Where, 
for  the  development  of  the  plot,  persons  holding  pub- 
lic offices  are  mentioned,  these  are  entirely  imaginary 
creations. 

E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 


CHAPTER  I 

The  two  men,  sole  occupants  of  the  somewhat 
shabby  cottage  parlour,  lingered  over  their  port,  not 
so  much  with  the  air  of  wine  lovers,  but  rather  as 
human  beings  and  intimates,  perfectly  content  with 
their  surroundings  and  company.  Outside,  the  wind 
was  howling  over  the  marshes,  and  occasional  bursts 
of  rain  came  streaming  against  the  window  panes. 
Inside  at  any  rate  was  comfort,  triumphing  over 
varying  conditions.  The  cloth  upon  the  plain  deal 
table  was  of  fine  linen,  the  decanter  and  glasses  were 
beautifully  cut;  there  were  walnuts  and,  in  a  far 
corner,  cigars  of  a  well-known  brand  and  cigarettes 
from  a  famous  tobacconist.  Beyond  that  little 
oasis,  however,  were  all  the  evidences  of  a  hired 
abode.  A  hole  in  the  closely  drawn  curtains  was  fas- 
tened together  by  a  safety  pin.  The  horsehair  easy- 
chairs  bore  disfiguring  antimacassars,  the  photo- 
graphs which  adorned  the  walls  were  grotesque  but 
typical  of  village  ideals,  the  carpet  was  threadbare, 
the  closed  door  secured  by  a  latch  instead  of  the 
usual  knob.     One  side  of  the  room  was  littered  with 


jl  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

golf  clubs,  a  huge  game  bag  and  several  boxes  of 
cartridges.  Two  shotguns  lay  upon  the  remains  of 
a  sofa.  It  scarcely  needed  the  costume  of  Miles 
Furley,  the  host,  to  demonstrate  the  fact  that  this 
was  the  temporary  abode  of  a  visitor  to  the  Blake- 
ney  marshes  in  search  of  sport. 

Furley,  broad-shouldered,  florid,  with  tanned  skin 
and  grizzled  hair,  was  still  wearing  the  high  sea 
boots  and  jersey  of  the  duck  shooter.  His  com- 
panion, on  the  other  hand,  a  tall,  slim  man,  with 
high  forehead,  clear  eyes,  stubborn  jaw,  and  straight 
yet  sensitive  mouth,  wore  the  ordinary  dinner  clothes 
of  civilisation.  The  contrast  between  the  two  men 
might  indeed  have  afforded  some  ground  for  specula- 
tion as  to  the  nature  of  their  intimacy.  Furley,  a 
son  of  the  people,  had  the  air  of  cultivating,  even 
clinging  to  a  certain  plebeian  strain,  never  so  ap- 
parent as  when  he  spoke,  or  in  his  gestures.  He  was 
a  Member  of  Parliament  for  a  Labour  constituency, 
a  shrewd  and  valuable  exponent  of  the  gospel  of  the 
working  man.  What  he  lacked  in  the  higher  qual- 
ities of  oratory  he  made  up  in  sturdy  common  sense. 
The  will-o'-the-wisp  Socialism  of  the  moment,  with 
its  many  attendant  "isms"  and  theories,  received 
scant  favour  at  his  hands.  He  represented  the  solid 
element  in  British  Labour  politics,  and  it  was  well 
known  that  he  had  refused  a  seat  in  the  Cabinet  in 
order  to  preserve  an  absolute  independence.  He  had 
a  remarkable  gift  of  taciturnity,  which  in  a  man  of 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  8 

his  class  made  for  strength,  and  it  was  concerning 
him  that  the  Prime  Minister  had  made  his  famous 
epigram, — that  Furley  was  the  Labour  man  whom 
he  feared  the  most  and  dreaded  the  least. 

Julian  Orden,  with  an  exterior  more  promising  in 
many  respects  than  that  of  his  friend,  could  boast 
of  no  similar  distinctions.  He  was  the  youngest  son 
of  a  particularly  fatuous  peer  resident  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, had  started  life  as  a  barrister,  in  which 
profession  he  had  attained  a  moderate  success,  had 
enjoyed  a  brief  but  not  inglorious  spell  of  soldiering, 
from  which  he  had  retired  slightly  lamed  for  life, 
and  had  filled  up  the  intervening  period  in  the  harm- 
less occupation  of  censoring.  His  friendship  with 
Furley  appeared  on  the  surface  too  singular  to  be 
anything  else  but  accidental.  Probably  no  one  save 
the  two  men  themselves  understood  it,  and  they  both 
possessed  the  gift  of  silence. 

"What's  all  this  peace  talk  mean?"  Julian  Orden 
asked,  fingering  the  stem  of  his  wineglass. 

"Who  knows?"  Furley  grunted.  "The  newspa- 
pers must  have  their  daily  sensation." 

"I  have  a  theory  that  it  is  being  engineered." 

"Bolo  business,  eh  ?  " 

Julian  Orden  moved  in  his  place  a  little  uneasily. 
His  long,  nervous  fingers  played  with  the  stick  which 
stood  always  by  the  side  of  his  chair. 

"You  don't  believe  in  it,  do  you  ?"  he  asked  quietly. 

Furley  looked  straight  ahead  of  him.     His  eyes 


4  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

seemed  caught  by  the  glitter  of  the  lamplight  upon 
the  cut-glass  decanter. 

"You  know  my  opinion  of  war,  Julian,"  he  said. 
"It's  a  filthy,  intolerable  heritage  from  generations 
of  autocratic  government.  No  democracy  ever 
wanted  war.  Every  democracy  needs  and  desires 
peace." 

"One  moment,"  Julian  interrupted.  "You  must 
remember  that  a  democracy  seldom  possesses  the  im- 
perialistic spirit,  and  a  great  empire  can  scarcely 
survive  without  it." 

"Arrant  nonsense !"  was  the  vigorous  reply.  "A 
great  empire,  from  hemisphere  to  hemisphere,  can  be 
kept  together  a  good  deal  better  by  democratic  con- 
trol. Force  is  always  the  arriere  pensee  of  the  in- 
dividual and  the  autocrat." 

"These  are  generalities,"  Julian  declared.  "I 
want  to  know  your  opinion  about  a  peace  at  the 
present  moment." 

"Not  having  any,  thanks.  You're  a  dilettante 
journalist  by  your  own  confession,  Julian,  and  I  am 
not  going  to  be  drawn." 

"There  is  something  in  it,  then?" 

"Maybe,"  was  the  careless  admission.  "You're  a 
visitor  worth  having,  Julian.  '70  port  and  home- 
grown walnuts !  A  nice  little  addition  to  my  simple 
fare!     Must  you  go  back  to-morrow.?" 

Julian  nodded. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  6 

''We've  another  batch  of  visitors  coming, —  Sten- 
son  amongst  them,  by  the  bye." 

Furley  nodded.  His  eyes  narrowed,  and  little 
lines  appeared  at  their  corners. 

"I  can't  imagine,"  he  confessed.  "What  brings 
Stenson  down  to  Maltenby.  I  should  have  thought 
that  your  governor  and  he  could  scarcely  spend  ten 
minutes  together  without  quarrelling!" 

"They  never  do  spend  ten  minutes  together — 
alone,"  Julian  replied  drily.  "I  see  to  that.  Then 
my  mother,  you  know,  has  the  knack  of  getting  in- 
teresting people  together.  The  Bishop  is  coming, 
amongst  others.  And,  Furley,  I  wanted  to  ask 
you — do  you  know  anything  of  a  young  woman — 
she  is  half  Russian,  I  believe — who  calls  herself  Miss 
Catherine  Abbeway?" 

"Yes,  I  know  her,"  was  the  brief  rejoinder. 

"She  lived  in  Russia  for  some  years,  it  seems," 
Julian  continued.  "Her  mother  was  Russian — a 
great  writer  on  social  subjects." 

Furley  nodded. 

"Miss  Abbeway  is  rather  that  way  herself,"  he  re- 
marked. "I've  heard  her  lecture  in  the  East  End. 
She  has  got  hold  of  the  woman's  side  of  ^he  Labour 
question  as  well  as  any  one  I  ever  came  across." 

"She  is  a  most  remarkably  attractive  young  per- 
son," Julian  declared  pensively. 

"Yes,  she's  good-looking.  A  countess  in  her  own 
right,  they  tell  me,  but  she  keeps  her  title  secret 


e  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

for  fear  of  losing  influence  with  the  working  classes. 
She  did  a  lot  of  good  down  Poplar  way.  Shouldn't 
have  thought  she'd  have  been  jour  sort,  Julian." 

"Why?" 

"Too  serious." 

Julian  smiled — rather  a  peculiar,  introspective 
smile. 

*'I,  too,  can  be  serious  sometimes,"  he  said. 

His  friend  thrust  his  hands  into  his  trousers 
pocket  and,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  looked  stead- 
fastly at  his  guest. 

"I  believe  you  can,  Julian,"  he  admitted.  "Some- 
times I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  understand  you. 
That's  the  worst  of  a  man  with  the  gift  for  silence." 

*'You're  not  a  great  talker  yourself,"  the  younger 
man  reminded  his  host. 

"When  you  get  me  going  on  my  own  subject," 
Furley  remarked,  "I  find  it  hard  to  stop,  and  you 
are  a  wonderful  listener.  Have  you  got  any  views 
of  your  own?     I  never  hear  them." 

Julian  drew  the  box  of  cigarettes  towards  him. 

"Oh,  yes,  I've  views  of  my  own,"  he  confessed. 
"Some  day,  perhaps,  you  shall  know  what  they 
are." 

"A  man  of  mystery !"  his  friend  jeered  good- 
naturedly. 

Julian  lit  his  cigarette  and  watched  the  smoke 
curl  upward. 

"Let's  talk  about  the  duck,"  he  suggested. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  T 

The  two  men  sat  si;  silence  for  some  minutes.  Out- 
side, the  storm  seemed  to  have  increased  in  violence. 
Furley  rose,  threw  a  log  on  to  the  fire  and  resumed 
his  place. 

"Geese  flew  hfgri,"  he  remarked. 

"Too  high  for  vrse,"  Julian  confessed. 

"You  got  one — more  than  I  did." 

**Sheer  luck.  The  outside  bird  dipped  down  to 
me." 

Furley  filled  his  guest's  glass  and  then  his  own. 

"What  on  earth  have  you  kept  your  shooting  kit 
on  for?"  the  latter  asked,  with  lazy  curiosity. 

Furley  glanced  down  at  liis  incongruous  attire  and 
seemed  for  a  moment  ill  at  ease. 

"I've  got  to  go  out  presently,"  he  announced. 

Julian  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"Got  to  go  out.'"'  he  repeated.  "On  a  night  like 
this.''     Why,  my  dear  fellow — " 

He  paused  abruptly.  He  was  a  man  of  quick 
perceptions,  and  he  realised  his  host's  embarrass- 
ment. Nevertheless,  there  was  an  awkward  pause  in 
the  conversation.  Furley  rose  to  his  feet  and 
frowned.  He  fetched  a  jar  of  tobacco  from  a  shelf 
and  filled  his  pouch  deliberately. 

"Sorry  to  seem  mysterious,  old  chap,"  he  said. 
"I've  just  a  bit  of  a  job  to  do.  It  doesn't  amount 
to  anything,  but — well,  it's  the  sort  of  affair  we 
don't  talk  about  much." 

Julian  nodded. 


8  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

*'Well,  you're  welcome  to  all  the  amusement  you'll 
get  out  of  it,  a  night  like  this." 

Farley  laid  down  his  pipe,  ready-filled,  and  drank 
off  his  porL 

'*There  isn't  much  amusement  left  in  the  world, 
is  there,  just  now?"  he  remarked  gravely. 

**Very  little  indeed.  It's  three  years  since  I 
handled  a  shotgun  before  to-night." 

"You've  really  chucked  the  censoring?" 

"Last  week.     I've  had  a  solid  year  at  it." 

"Fed  up?" 

**Not  exactly  that.  My  own  work  accumulated 
so." 

"Briefs  coming  along,  eh?" 

"I'm  a  sort  of  hack  journalist  as  well,  as  you 
reminded  me  just  now,"  Julian  explained  a  little 
evasively. 

*'I  wonder  you  stuck  at  the  censoring  so  long. 
Isn't  it  terribly  tedious?" 

"Sometimes.  Now  and  then  we  come  across  in- 
teresting things,  though.  For  instance,  I  discovered 
a  most  original  cipher  the  other  day." 

"Did  it  lead  to  anything?"  Furley  asked  cu- 
riously. 

"Not  at  present.  I  discovered  it,  studying  a 
telegram  from  Norway.  It  was  addressed  to  a  per- 
fectly respectable  firm  of  English  timber  merchants 
who    have    an    oflBce    in    the    city.     This    was    the 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  9 

original : — 'Fir  planks  too  narrow  by  half.*  Sounds 
harmless  enough,  doesn't  it?" 

"Absolutely.     ^Vhat's  the  hidden  meaning.?" 

"There  I  am  still  at  a  loss,"  Julian  confessed, 
"but  treated  with  the  cipher  it  comes  out  as: 
*Thirt3'-eight  steeple  on  barn.'  " 

Furley  stared  for  a  moment,  then  he  lit  his  pipe. 

"Well,  of  the  two,"  he  declared,  "I  should  prefer 
the  first  rendering  for  intelligibility." 

"So  would  most  people,"  Julian  assented,  smiling, 
**yet  I  am  sure  there  is  something  in  it — some  mean- 
ing, of  course,  that  needs  a  context  to  grasp  it." 

"Have  you  interviewed  the  firm  of  timber  mer- 
chants?" 

"Not  personally.  That  doesn't  come  into  my  de- 
partment. The  name  of  the  man  who  manages  the 
London  office,  though,  is  Fenn — Nicholas  Fenn." 

Furley  withdrew  the  pipe  from  his  mouth.  His 
eyebrows  had  come  together  in  a  slight  frown. 

"Nicholas  Fenn,  the  Labour  M.P?" 

**That's  the  fellow.     You  know  him,  of  course?" 

*'Yes,  I  know  him,"  Furley  replied  thoughtfully. 
"He  is  secretary  of  the  Timber  Trades  Union  and 
got  in  for  one  of  the  divisions  of  Hull  last  year." 

"I  understand  that  there  is  nothing  whatever 
against  him  personally,"  Julian  continued,  "although 
as  a  politician  he  is  of  course  beneath  contempt. 
He  started  life  as  a  village  schoolmaster  and  has 


10  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

worked  his  way  up  most  creditably.  He  professed 
to  understand  the  cable  as  it  appeared  in  its  ori^nal 
form.  All  the  same,  it's  very  odd  that,  treated  by 
a  cipher  which  I  got  on  the  track  of  a  few  days 
previously,  this  same  message  should  work  out  as 
I  told  you." 

"Of  course,"  Furley  observed,  "ciphers  can  lead 
you—" 

He  stopped  short.  Julian,  who  had  been  leaning 
over  towards  the  cigarette  box,  glanced  around  at  his 
friend.  There  was  a  frown  on  Furley's  forehead. 
He  withdrew  his  pipe  from  between  his  teeth. 

"What  did  you  say  you  made  of  it.'"'  he  demanded. 

"  *Thirty-eight  steeple  on  bam.'  " 

"Thirty-eight !     That's  queer !" 

"Why  is  it  queer?" 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Furley  glanced  at 
the  little  clock  upon  the  mantelpiece.  It  was  five  and 
twenty  minutes  past  nine. 

*'I  don't  know  whether  you  have  ever  heard, 
Julian,"  he  said,  "that  our  enemies  on  the  other 
side  of  the  North  Sea  are  supposed  to  have  divided 
the  whole  of  the  eastern  coast  of  Great  Britain  into 
small,  rectangular  districts,  each  about  a  couple  of 
miles  square.  One  of  our  secret  service  chaps  got 
hold  of  a  map  some  time  ago." 

"No,  I  never  heard  this,"  Julian  acknowledged. 
"Well.?" 

"It's  only  a  coincidence,  of  course,"  Furley  went 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  11 

on,  "but  number  thirty-eight  happens  to  be  the  two- 
mile  block  of  seacoast  of  which  this  cottage  is  just 
about  the  centre.  It  stretches  to  Cley  on  one  side 
and  Salthouse  on  the  other,  and  inland  as  far  as 
Dutchman's  Common.  I  am  not  suggesting  that 
there  is  any  real  connection  between  your  cable  and 
this  fact,  but  that  you  should  mention  it  at  this 
particular  moment — well,  as  I  said,  it's  a  coinci- 
dence." 

"Why?" 

Furley  had  risen  to  his  feet.  He  threw  open  the 
door  and  listened  for  a  moment  in  the  passage. 
When  he  came  back  he  was  carrying  some  oilskins. 

"Julian,"  he  said,  "I  know  you  are  a  bit  of  a 
cynic  about  espionage  and  that  sort  of  thing.  Of 
course,  there  has  been  a  terrible  lot  of  exaggeration, 
and  heaps  of  fellows  go  gassing  about  secret  service 
jobs,  all  the  way  up  the  coast  from  here  to  Scotland, 
who  haven't  the  least  idea  what  the  thing  means. 
But  there  is  a  little  bit  of  it  done,  and  in  my  humble 
way  they  find  me  an  occasional  job  or  two  down 
here.  I  won't  say  that  anything  ever  comes  of  our 
efforts — we're  rather  like  the  special  constables  of 
the  secret  service — but  just  occasionally  we  come 
across  something  suspicious." 

"So  that's  why  you're  going  out  again  to-night,  is 
it.?" 

Furley  nodded. 

"This  is  mj  last  night.     I  am  off  up  to  town  on 


12  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

Monday  and  shan't  be  able  to  get  down  again  this 
season." 

**Had  any  adventures?" 

"Not  the  ghost  of  one.  I  don't  mind  admitting 
that  I've  had  a  good  many  wettings  and  a  few  scares 
on  that  stretch  of  marshland,  but  I've  never  seen  or 
heard  anything  yet  to  send  in  a  report  about.  It 
just  happens,  though,  that  to-night  there's  a  special 
vigilance  whip  out." 

'*What  does  that  mean.'"'  Julian  enquired  cu- 
riously. 

"Something  supposed  to  be  up,"  was  the  dubious 
reply.  "We've  a  very  imaginative  chief,  I  might  tell 
you." 

"But  what  sort  of  thing  could  happen?"  Julian 
persisted.  "What  are  you  out  to  prevent,  any- 
way?" 

Furley  relit  his  pipe,  thrust  a  flask  into  his  pocket, 
and  picked  up  a  thick  stick  from  a  corner  of  the 
room. 

"Can't  tell,"  he  replied  laconically.  "There's  an 
idea,  of  course,  that  communications  are  carried  on 
with  the  enemy  from  somewhere  do^vn  this  coast. 
Sorry  to  leave  you,  old  fellow,"  he  added.  "Don't 
sit  up.  I  never  fasten  the  door  here.  Remember  to 
look  after  your  fire  upstairs,  and  the  whisky  is  on 
the  sideboard  here." 

"I  shall  be  all  right,  thanks,"  Julian  assured  his 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  13 

host.  **No  use  my  offering  to  come  with  you,  I 
suppose?" 

"Not  allowed,"  was  the  brief  response. 

"Thank  heavens!"  Julian  exclaimed  piously,  as  a 
storm  of  rain  blew  in  through  the  ha'lf-open  door. 
"Good  night  and  good  luck,  old  chap !" 

Furley's  reply  was  drowned  in  the  roar  of  wind. 
Julian  secured  the  door,  underneath  which  a  little 
stream  of  rain  was  creeping  in.  Then  he  returned 
to  the  sitting  room,  threw  a  log  upon  the  fire,  and 
drew  one  of  the  ancient  easy-chairs  close  up  to  the 
blaze. 


CHAPTER  II 

Julian,  notwithstanding  his  deliberate  intention  of 
abandoning  himself  to  an  hour's  complete  repose,  be- 
came, after  the  first  few  minutes  of  solitude,  conscious 
of  a  peculiar  and  increasing  sense  of  restlessness. 
With  the  help  of  a  rubber-shod  stick  which  leaned 
against  his  chair,  he  rose  presently  to  his  feet  and 
moved  about  the  room,  revealing  a  lameness  which 
had  the  appearance  of  permanency.  In  the  small, 
white-ceilinged  apartment  his  height  became  more 
than  ever  noticeable,  also  the  squareness  of  his  shoul- 
ders and  the  lean  vigour  of  his  frame.  He  handled 
his  gun  for  a  moment  and  laid  it  down ;  glapced  at 
the  card  stuck  in  the  cheap  looking  glass,  which  an- 
nounced that  David  Grice  let  lodgings  and  conducted 
shooting  parties ;  turned  with  a  shiver  from  the  con- 
templation of  two  atrocious  oleographs,  a  church 
calendar  pinned  upon  the  wall,  and  a  battered  map 
of  the  neighbourhood,  back  to  the  table  at  which 
he  had  been  seated.  He  selected  a  cigarette  and  lit 
it.  Presently  he  began  to  talk  to  himself,  a  habit 
which  had  grown  upon  him  during  the  latter  years 
of  a  life  whose  secret  had  entailed  a  certain  amount 
of  solitude. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  16 

"Perhaps,"  he  murmured,  "I  am  psychic.  Never- 
theless, I  am  convinced  that  something  is  happen- 
ing, something  not  far  away.'* 

He  stood  for  a  while,  listening  intently,  the  cigar- 
ette burning  away  between  his  fingers.  Then,  stoop- 
ing a  little,  he  passed  out  into  the  narrow  passage 
and  opened  the  door  into  the  kitchen  behind,  from 
which  the  woman  who  came  to  minister  to  their  wants 
had  some  time  ago  departed.  Everything  was  in 
order  here  and  spotlessly  neat.  He  climbed  the 
narrow  staircase,  looked  in  at  Furley's  room  and  his 
own,  and  at  the  third  apartment,  in  which  had  been 
rigged  up  a  temporary  bath.  The  result  was  unil- 
luminating.     He  turned  and  descended  the  stairs. 

"Either,"  he  went  on,  with  a  very  slight  frown, 
"I  am  not  psychic,  or  whatever  may  be  happening  is 
happening  out  of  doors." 

He  raised  the  latch  of  the  door,  under  which  a 
little  pool  of  water  was  now  standing,  and  leaned 
out.  There  seemed  to  be  a  curious  cessation  of 
immediate  sounds.  From  somewhere  straight  ahead 
of  him,  on  the  other  side  of  that  black  velvet  curtain 
of  darkness,  came  the  dull  booming  of  the  wind,  tear- 
ing across  the  face  of  the  marshes;  and  beyond  it, 
beating  time  in  a  rhythmical  sullen  roar,  the  rise  and 
fall  of  the  sea  upon  the  shingle.  But  near  at  hand, 
for  some  reason,  there  was  almost  silence.  The  rain 
had  ceased,  the  gale  for  a  moment  had  spent  itself. 
The  strong,   salty  moisture  was   doubly   refreshing 


16  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

after    the    closeness    of    the    small,    lamplit    room. 
Julian  lingered  there  for  several  moments. 

"Nothing  like  fresh  air,"  he  muttered,  "for  driv- 
ing away  fancies." 

Then  he  suddenly  stiffened.  He  leaned  forward 
into  the  dark,  listening.  This  time  there  was  no 
mistake.  A  cry,  faint  and  pitiful  though  it  was, 
reached  his  ears  distinctly. 

"Julian  I     Julian !" 

"Coming,  old  chap,"  he  shouted.  "Wait  until  I 
get  a  torch." 

He  stepped  quickly  back  into  the  sitting  room, 
drew  an  electric  torch  from  the  drawer  of  the  homely 
little  chiffonier  and,  regardless  of  regulations, 
stepped  once  more  out  into  the  darkness,  now  pierced 
for  him  by  that  single  brilliant  ray.  The  door  op- 
ened on  to  a  country  road  filled  with  gleaming 
puddles.  On  the  other  side  of  the  way  was  a  strip 
of  grass,  sloping  downwards ;  then  a  broad  dyke, 
across  which  hung  the  remains  of  a  footbridge.  The 
voice  came  from  the  water,  fainter  now  but  still 
eager.  Julian  hurried  forward,  fell  on  his  knees  b}- 
the  side  of  the  dyke  and,  passing  his  hands  under 
his  friend's  shoulders,  dragged  him  out  of  the  black, 
sluggish  water. 

"My  God!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  happened. 
Miles.?     Did  you  slip?" 

"The  bridge — gave  way  when  I  was  half  across," 
was    the    muttered    response.     "I    think    my    leg's 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  17 

broken.  I  fell  in  and  couldn't  get  clear — just  man- 
aged to  raise  mv  head  out  of  the  water  and  cling 
to  the  rail." 

"Hold  tight,"  Julian  enjoined.  "I'm  going  to 
drag  3'ou  across  the  road.     It's  the  best  I  can  do." 

They  reached  the  threshold  of  the  sitting  room. 

**Sorry,  old  chap,"  faltered  Furlev, — and  fainted. 

He  came  to  himself  in  front  of  the  sitting-room 
fire,  to  find  his  lips  wet  with  brandy  and  his  rescuer 
leaning  over  him.  His  first  action  was  to  feel  his 
leg. 

"That's  all  right,"  Julian  assured  him.  "It  isn't 
broken.  I've  been  over  it  carefully.  If  you're  quite 
comfortable,  I'll  step  down  to  the  village  and  fetch 
the  medico.     It  isn't  a  mile  away." 

"Don't  bother  about  the  doctor  for  a  moment," 
Furley  begged.  "Listen  to  me.  Take  your  torch — 
go  out  and  examine  that  bridge.  Come  back  and 
tell  me  what's  wrong  with  it." 

"What  the  dickens  does  that  matter.?"  Jvdian  ob- 
jected. "It's  the  doctor  we  want.  The  dyke's 
flooded,  and  I  expect  the  supports  gave  way." 

"Do  as  I  ask,"  Furley  insisted.  "I  have  a  rea- 
son." 

Julian  rose  to  his  feet,  walked  cautiously  to  the 
edge  of  the  dyke,  turned  on  his  light,  and  lovked 
downwards.  One  part  of  the  bridge  remained ;  the 
other  was  caught  in  the  weeds,  a  few  yards  down, 
and  the  single  plank  which  formed  its  foundation 


18  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

was  sawn  through,  *clean  and  straight.  He  gazed 
at  it  for  a  moment  in  astonishment.  Then  he  turned 
back  toM  tds  the  cottage,  to  receive  another  shock. 
About  forty  yards  up  the  lane,  drawn  in  close  to  a 
straggling  hedge,  was  a  small  motor-car,  revealed 
to  him  by  a  careless  swing  of  his  torch.  He  turned 
sharply  towards  it,  keeping  his  torch  as  much  con- 
cealed as  possible.  It  was  empty — a  small  coupe  of 
pearl-grey — a  powerful  two-seater,  with  deep,  cush- 
ioned seats  and  luxuriously  fitted  body.  He  flashed 
his  torch  on  to  the  maker's  name  and  returned 
thoughtfully  to  his  friend. 

"Miles,"  he  confessed,  as  he  entered  the  sitting 
room,  "there  are  some  things  I  will  never  make  fun 
of  again.     Have  you  a  personal  enemy  here?" 

"Not  one,"  replied  Furley.  "The  soldiers,  who 
•are  all  decent  fellows,  the  old  farmer  at  the  back, 
and  your  father  and  mother  are  the  only  people 
with  whom  I  have  the  slightest  acquaintance  in  these 
parts." 

*'The  bridge  has  been  deliberately  sawn  through," 
Julian  announced  gravely. 

Furley  nodded.  He  seemed  prepared  for  the 
news. 

"There  is  something  doing  in  this  section,  then," 
he  muttered.     "Julian,  will  you  take  my  job  on.''" 

"Like  a  bird,"  was  the  prompt  response.  "Tell 
me  exactly  what  to  do?" 

Furley  sat  up,  still  nursing  his  leg. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  19 

*'Put  on  your  sea  boots,  and  your  oilskins  over 
your  clothes,"  he  directed.  "You  will  want  your 
own  stick,  so  take  that  revolver  and  an  elet  ric  torch. 
You  can't  get  across  the  remains  of  the  bridge,  but 
about  fifty  yards  down  to  the  left,  as  you  leave  the 
door,  the  water's  only  about  a  foot  deep.  Walk 
through  it,  scramble  up  the  other  side,  and  come 
back  again  along  the  edge  of  the  dyke  until  you  come 
to  the  place  where  one  lands  from  the  broken  bridge. 
Is  that  clear?" 

"Entirely." 

"After  that,  you  go  perfectly  straight  along  a 
sort  of  cart  track  until  you  come  to  a  gate.  When 
you  have  passed  through  it,  you  must  climb  a  bank 
on  your  left-hand  side  and  walk  along  the  top.  IVc 
a  beastly  path,  and  there  are  dykes  on  either  side  of 
you." 

"Pooh !"  Julian  exclaimed.  "You  forget  that  I 
am  a  native  of  this  part  of  the  world." 

"You  come  to  a  sort  of  stile  at  the  end  of  about 
three  hundred  yards,"  Furley  continued.  "You  get 
over  that,  and  the  bank  breaks  up  into  two.  You 
keep  to  the  left,  and  it  leads  you  right  down  into 
the  marsh.  Turn  seaward.  It  will  be  a  nasty 
scramble,  but  there  will  only  be  about  fifty  yards  of 
it.  Then  you  get  to  a  bit  of  rough  ground — a  bank 
of  grass-grown  sand.  Below  that  there  is  the 
shingle  and  the  sea.  That  is  where  you  take  up 
your  post.'* 


20  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"Can  I  use  my  torch,"  Julian  enquired,  "and  what 
am  I  to  look  out  for?" 

"Heaven  knows,"  replied  Furley,  "except  that 
there's  a  general  suggestion  of  communications  be- 
tween some  person  on  land  and  some  person  ap- 
proaching from  the  sea.  I  don't  mind  confessing 
that  I've  done  this  job,  on  and  off,  whenever  I've 
been  down  here,  for  a  couple  of  years,  and  I've  never 
seen  or  heard  a  suspicious  thing  yet.  We  are  never 
told  a  word  in  our  instructions,  either,  or  given  any 
advice.  However,  what  I  should  do  would  be  to 
lie  flat  down  on  the  top  of  that  bank  and  listen.  If 
you  hear  anything  peculiar,  then  you  must  use  your 
discretion  about  the  torch.  It's  a  nasty  job  to  make 
over  to  a  pal,  Julian,  but  I  know  you're  keen  on 
anything  that  looks  like  an  adventure." 

"All  over  it,"  was  the  ready  reply.  "What  about 
leaving  j^ou  alone,  though,  Miles?" 

"You  put  the  whisky  and  soda  where  I  can  get  at 
it,"  Furley  directed,  "and  I  shall  be  all  right.  I'm 
feeling  stronger  every  moment.  I  expect  your  sea 
boots  are  in  the  scullery.  And  hurry  up,  there's  a 
good  fellow.  We're  twenty  minutes  behind  time,  as 
it  is." 

Julian  started  on  his  adventure  without  any  par- 
ticular enthusiasm.  He  found  the  crossing,  re- 
turned along  the  side  of  the  bank,  trudged  along  the 
cart  track  until  he  arrived  at  the  gate,  and  climbed 
up  on  the  dyke  without  misadventure.     From  here  he 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  «1 

made  his  way  more  cautiously,  using  his  stick  with 
his  right  hand,  his  torch,  with  his  thumb  upon  the 
knob,  in  his  left.  The  lull  in  the  storm  seemed  to  be 
at  an  end.  Black,  low-hanging  clouds  were  closing 
in  upon  him.  Away  to  the  right,  where  the  line  of 
marshes  was  unbroken,  the  boom  of  the  wind  grew 
louder.  A  gust  very  nearly  blew  him  down  the  bank. 
He  was  compelled  to  shelter  for  a  moment  on  its 
lee  side,  whilst  a  scud  of  snow  and  sleet  passed  like 
an  icy  whirlwind.  The  roar  of  the  sea  was  full  in 
his  ears  now,  and  though  he  must  still  have  been 
fully  two  hundred  yards  away  from  it,  little  ghostly 
specks  of  white  spray  were  dashed,  every  now  and 
then,  into  his  face.  From  here  he  made  his  way  with 
great  care,  almost  crawling,  until  he  came  to  the 
stile.  In  the  marshes  he  was  twice  in  salt  water  over 
his  knees,  but  he  scrambled  out  until  he  reached  the 
grass-grown  sand  bank  which  Furley  had  indicated. 
Obeying  orders,  he  lay  down  and  listened  intently 
for  any  fainter  sounds  mingled  with  the  tumult  of 
nature.  After  a  few  minutes,  it  was  astonishing  how 
his  eyes  found  themselves  able  to  penetrate  the  dark- 
ness which  at  first  had  seemed  like  a  black  wall. 
Some  distance  to  the  right  he  could  make  out  the  out- 
line of  a  deserted  barn,  once  used  as  a  coast-guard 
station  and  now  only  a  depository  for  the  storing  of 
life  belts.  In  front  of  him  he  could  trace  the  bank 
of  shingle  and  the  line  of  the  sea,  and  presently 
the  outline  of  some  dark  object,  lying  just  out  of 


22  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

reach  of  the  breaking  waves,  attra<;ted  his  attention. 
He  watched  it  steadily.  For  some  time  it  was  as 
motionless  as  the  log  he  presumed  it  to  be.  Then, 
without  any  warning,  it  hunched  itself  up  and  drew 
a  little  farther  back.  There  was  no  longer  any 
doubt.  It  was  a  human  being,  lying  on  its  stomach 
with  its  head  turned  to  the  sea. 

Julian,  who  had  entered  upon  his  adventure  with 
the  supercilious  incredulity  of  a  staunch  unbeliever 
invited  to  a  spiritualist's  seance,  was  conscious  for 
a  moment  of  an  absolutely  new  sensation.  A  person 
of  acute  psychological  instincts,  he  found  himself 
analysing  that  sensation  almost  as  soon  as  it  was 
conceived. 

"There  is  no  doubt,"  he  confessed  under  his  breath, 
"that  I  am  afraid !" 

His  heart  was  beating  with  unaccustomed  vigour ; 
he  was  conscious  of  an  acute  tingling  in  all  his  senses. 
Then,  still  lying  on  his  stomach,  almost  holding  his 
breath,  he  saw  the  thin  line  of  light  from  an  electric 
torch  steal  out  along  the  surface  of  the  sea,  obviously 
from  the  hand  of  his  fellow  watcher.  Almost  at  that 
same  moment  the  undefined  agitation  which  had  as- 
sailed him  passed.  He  set  his  teeth  and  watched 
that  line  of  light.  It  moved  slowly  sideways  along 
the  surface  of  the  sea,  as  though  searching  for 
something.  Julian  drew  himself  cautiously,  inch  by 
inch,  to  the  extremity  of  the  sand  hummock.  His 
brain  was  working  with  a  new  clearness.     An  inspira- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  99 

tion  flashed  in  upon  him  during  those  few  seconds. 
He  knew  the  geography  of  the  place  well, — the  corner 
of  the  barn,  the  steeple  beyond,  and  the  watcher  lying 
in  a  direct  line.     His  cipher  was  explained ! 

Perfectly  cool  now,  Julian  thought  with  some  re- 
gret of  the  revolver  which  he  had  scorned  to  bring. 
He  occupied  himself,  during  these  seconds  of  watch- 
ing, by  considering  with  care  what  his  next  action 
was  to  be.  If  he  even  set  his  foot  upon  the  shingle, 
the  watcher  below  would  take  alarm,  and  if  he  once 
ran  away,  pursuit  was  hopeless.  The  figure,  so  far 
as  he  could  distinguish  it,  was  more  like  that  of  a 
boy  than  a  man.  Julian  began  to  calculate  coolly 
the  chances  of  an  immediate  intervention.  Then 
things  happened,  and  for  a  moment  he  held  his 
breath. 

The  line  of  light  had  shot  out  once  more,  and  this 
time  it  seemed  to  reveal  something,  something  which 
rose  out  of  the  water  and  which  looked  like  nothing 
so  much  as  a  long  strip  of  zinc  piping.  The  watcher 
at  the  edge  of  the  sea  threw  down  his  torch  and 
gripped  the  end  of  it,  and  Julian,  carried  away  with 
excitement,  yielded  to  an  instant  and  overpowering 
temptation.  He  flashed  on  his  own  torch  and 
watched  while  the  eager  figure  seemed  by  some  means 
to  unscrew  the  top  of  the  coil  and  drew  from  it 
a  dark,  rolled-up  packet.  Even  at  that  supreme  mo- 
ment, the  slim  figure  upon  the  beach  seemed  to  be- 
come conscious  of  the  illumination  of  which  he  was 

r-- 


ft4t  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

the  centre.  He  swung  round, — and  that  was  just  as 
far  as  Julian  Orden  got  in  his  adventure.  After  a 
lapse  of  time,  during  which  he  seemed  to  live  in  a 
whirl  of  blackness,  where  a  thousand  men  were  beat- 
ing at  a  thousand  anvils,  filling  the  world  with 
sparks,  with  the  sound  of  every  one  of  their  blows 
reverberating  in  his  ears,  he  opened  his  eyes  to  find 
himself  lying  on  his  back,  with  one  leg  in  a  pool  of 
salt  water,  which  was  being  dashed  industriously  into 
his  face  by  an  unseen  hand.  By  his  side  he  was 
conscious  of  the  presence  of  a  thick-set  man  in  a 
fisherman's  costume  of  brown  oilskins  and  a  south- 
wester  pulled  down  as  though  to  hide  his  features, — 
obviously  the  man  who  had  dealt  him  the  blow. 
Then  he  heard  a  very  soft,  quiet  voice  behind  him. 

"He  will  do  now.     Come." 

The  man  by  his  side  grunted. 

"I  am  going  to  make  sure  of  him,"  he  said  thickly. 

Again  he  heard  that  clear  voice  from  behind,  this 
time  a  little  raised.  The  words  failed  to  reach  his 
brain,  but  the  tone  was  one  of  cold  and  angry  dis- 
sent, followed  by  an  imperative  order.  Then  once 
more  his  senses  seemed  to  be  leaving  him.  He  passed 
into  the  world  which  seemed  to  consist  only  of  him- 
self and  a  3^outh  in  fisherman's  oilskins,  who  was  some- 
times Furley,  sometimes  his  own  sister,  sometimes 
the  figure  of  a  person  who  for  the  last  twenty-four 
hours  had  been  continually  in  his  thoughts,  who 
seemed  at  one  moment  to  be  sympathising  with  him 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  «5 

and  at  another  to  be  playing  upon  his  face  with  a 
garden  hose.  Then  it  all  faded  away,  and  a  sort 
of  numbness  crept  over  him.  He  made  a  desperate 
struggle  for  consciousness.  There  was  something 
cold  resting  against  his  cheek.  His  fingers  stole  to- 
wards it.  It  was  the  flask,  drawn  from  his  own 
pocket  and  placed  there  by  some  unseen  hand,  the 
top  already  unscrewed,  and  the  reviving  odour  steal- 
ing into  his  nostrils.  He  guided  it  to  his  lips  with 
trembling  fingers.  A  pleasant  sense  of  warmth  crept 
over  him.     His  head  fell  back. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  again,  he  first  turned 
around  for  the  tea  by  his  bedside,  then  stared  in 
front  of  him,  wondering  if  these  things  which  he 
saw  were  indeed  displayed  through  an  upraised  blind. 
There  was  the  marsh — a  picture  of  still  life — winding 
belts  of  sea  creeping,  serpent-like,  away  from  him 
towards  the  land,  with  broad  pools,  in  whose  bosom, 
here  and  there,  were  flashes  of  a  feeble  sunlight. 
There  were  the  clumps  of  wild  lavender  he  had  so 
often  admired,  the  patches  of  deep  meadow  green, 
and,  beating  the  air  with  their  wings  as  they  passed, 
came  a  flight  of  duck  over  his  head.  Very  stiff  and 
dazed,  he  staggered  to  his  feet.  There  was  the 
village  to  his  right,  red-tiled,  familiar;  the  snug 
farmhouses,  with  their  brown  fields  and  belts  of 
trees ;  the  curve  of  the  white  road. 

And  then,  with  a  single  flash  of  memory,  it  all 
came  back  to  him.     He  felt  the  top  of  his  head, 


26  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

still  sore;  looked  down  at  the  stretch  of  shingle, 
empty  now  of  any  reminiscences ;  and  finally,  lean- 
ing heavily  on  his  stick,  he  plodded  back  to  the 
cottage,  noticing,  as  he  drew  near,  the  absence  of 
the  motor-car  from  its  place  of  shelter.  MUes  Fur- 
ley  was  seated  in  his  armchair,  with  a  cup  of  tea  in 
his  hand  and  Mrs.  West  fussing  over  him,  as  Julian 
raised  the  latch  and  dragged  himself  into  the  sitting 
room.  They  both  turned  around  at  his  entrance. 
Furley  dropped  his  teaspoon  and  Mrs.  West  raised 
her  hands  above  her  head  and  shrieked.  Julian  sank 
into  the  nearest  chair. 

"Melodrama  has  come  to  me  at  last,"  he  murmured. 
"Give  me  some  tea — a  whole  teapotful,  Mrs.  West — 
.•?nd  get  a  hot  bath  ready." 

He  waited  until  their  temporary  housekeeper  had 
bustled  out  of  the  room.  Then  he  concluded  his 
sentence. 

"I  have  been  sandbagged,"  he  announced  impres- 
sively, and  proceeded  to  relate  the  night's  adventure 
to  his  host. 

*'This,"  declared  Julian,  about  a  couple  of  hours 
later,  as  he  helped  himself  for  the  second  time  to 
bacon  and  eggs,  "is  a  wonderful  tribute  to  the  sound- 
ness of  our  constitutions.  Miles,  it  is  evident  that 
you  and  I  have  led  righteous  lives." 

"Being  sandbagged  seems  to  have  given  you  an 
appetite,"  Furley  observed. 

"And  a  game  leg  seems  to  have  done  the  same 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  «T 

for  you,"  Julian  rejoined.     "Did  the  doctor  ask  jou 
how  you  did  it  ?" 

Furley  nodded. 

"I  just  said  that  I  slipped  on  the  marshes.  One 
doesn't  talk  of  such  little  adventures  as  you  and  I 
experienced  last  night." 

"By  the  bye,  what  does  one  do  about  them.^" 
Julian  enquired.  "I  feel  a  little  dazed  about  it  all, 
even  now — living  in  an  unreal  atmosphere  and  that 
sort  of  thing,  you  know.  It  seems  to  me  that  we 
ought  to  have  out  the  bloodhounds  and  search  for 
an  engaging  youth  and  a  particularly  disagreeable 
bully  of  a  man,  both  dressed  in  brown  oilskins  and — " 

"Oh,  chuck  it!"  Furley  intervened.  "The  intel- 
ligence department  in  charge  of  this  bit  of  coast 
doesn't  do  things  like  that.  What  you  want  to  re- 
member, Julian,  is  to  keep  your  mouth  shut.  I 
shall  have  a  chap  over  to  see  me  this  afternoon,  and 
I  shall  make  a  report  to  him." 

"All  the  same,"  persisted  Julian,  "we — or  rather 
I — was  without  a  doubt  a  witness  to  an  act  of  trea- 
son. By  some  subtle  means  connected  with  what 
seemed  to  be  a  piece  of  gas  pipe,  I  have  seen  communi- 
cation with  the  enemy  established." 

"You  don't  know  that  it  was  the  enemy  at  all,'* 
Furley  grunted. 

"For  us  others,"  Julian  replied,  "there  exists  the 
post  office,  the  telegraph  office  and  the  telephone.  I 
decline  to  believe  that  any  reasonable  person  would 


28  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

put  out  upon  the  sea  in  weather  like  last  night's  for 
the  sake  of  dehvering  a  letter  to  anj  harmless  in- 
habitant of  these  regions.  I  will  have  my  sensation, 
you  see,  Furley.  I  have  suffered — thank  heavens 
mine  is  a  thick  skull ! — and  I  will  not  be  cheated  of 
my  compensations." 

"Well,  keep  your  mouth  shut,  there's  a  good  fel- 
low, until  after  I  have  made  my  report  to  the  Intel- 
ligence Officer,"  Furley  begged.  "He'll  he  here 
about  four.     You  don't  mind  being  about.'"' 

"Not  in  the  least,"  Julian  promised.  "So  long  as 
I  am  home  for  dinner,  my  people  will  be  satisfied," 

"I  don't  know  how  you'll  amuse  yourself  this 
morning,"  Furley  observed,  "and  I'm  afraid  I  shan't 
be  able  to  get  out  for  the  flighting  this  evening." 

*'Don't  worry  about  me,"  Julian  begged.  "Re- 
member that  I  am  practically  at  home — it's  only 
three  miles  to  the  Hall  from  here — so  you  mustn't 
look  upon  me  as  an  ordinary  guest.  I  am  going  for 
a  tramp  in  a  few  minutes." 

"Lucky  chap !"  Furley  declared  enviously.  "Sun- 
shine like  this  makes  one  feel  as  though  one  were 
on  the  Riviera  instead  of  in  Norfolk.  Shall  you  visit 
the  scene  of  your  adventure.'"' 

"I  may,"  Julian  answered  thoughtfully.  "The  in- 
stinct of  the  sleuthhound  is  beginning  to  stir  in  me. 
There  is  no  telling  how  far  it  may  lead." 

Julian  started  on  his  tramp  about  half  an  hour 
later.     He  paused  first  at  a  bend  in  the  road,  about 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  J» 

fifty  yards  down,  and  stepped  up  close  to  the  hedge. 

"The  instinct  of  the  sleuthhound,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, "is  all  very  well,  but  why  on  earth  haven't  I 
told  Furley  about  the  car?" 

He  paused  to  consider  the  matter,  conscious  only 
of  the  fact  that  each  time  he  had  opened  his  lips  to 
mention  it,  he  had  felt  a  marked  but  purposeless 
disinclination  to  do  so.  He  consoled  himself  now 
with  the  reflection  that  the  information  would  be 
more  or  less  valueless  until  the  afternoon,  and  he 
forthwith  proceeded  upon  the  investigation  which  he 
had  planned  out. 

The  road  was  still  muddy,  and  the  track  of  the 
t^'res,  which  were  of  somewhat  peculiar  pattern, 
clearly  visible.  He  followed  it  along  the  road  for  a 
matter  of  a  mile  and  a  half.  Then  he  came  to  a 
standstill  before  a  plain  oak  gate  and  was  conscious 
of  a  distinct  shock.  On  the  top  bar  of  the  gate  was 
painted  in  white  letters — 

MALTENBY  HALL 

TRADESMEN'S  ENTRANCE 

and  it  needed  only  the  most  cursory  examination  to 
establish  the  fact  that  the  car  whose  track  he  had 
been  following  had  turned  in  here.  He  held  up  his 
hand  and  stopped  a  luggage  trolley  which  had  just 
turned  the  bend  in  the  avenue.  The  man  pulled  up 
and  touched  his  hat. 


30  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"Where  are  you  off  to,  Fellowes?"  Julian  en- 
quired. 

"I  am  going  to  Holt  station,  sir,"  the  man  re- 
plied, "after  some  luggage." 

"Are  there  any  guests  at  the  Hall  who  motored 
here,  do  you  know?"  Julian  asked. 

"Only  the  young  lady,  sir,"  the  man  replied, 
"Miss  Abbeway.  She  came  in  a  little  coupe  Pan- 
hard." 

Julian  frowned  thoughtfully. 

"Has  she  been  out  in  it  this  morning?"  he  asked. 

The  man  shook  his  head. 

*'She  broke  down  in  it  yesterday  afternoon,  sir," 
he  answered,  "about  halfway  up  to  the  Hall  here." 

"Broke  down?"  Julian  repeated.  "Anything 
serious?     Couldn't  you  put  it  riglit  for  her?" 

"She  wouldn't  let  me  touch  it,  sir,"  the  man  ex- 
plained. "She  said  she  had  two  cracked  sparking 
plugs,  and  she  wanted  to  replace  them  herself.  She 
has  had  some  lessons,  and  I  think  she  wanted  a  bit 
of  practice." 

"I  see.     Then  the  car  is  in  the  avenue  now?" 

"About  half  a  mile  up,  on  the  left-hand  side, 
sir,  just  by  the  big  elm.  Miss  Abbeway  said  she  was 
coming  down  this  afternoon  to  put  new  plugs  in." 

"Then  it's  been  there  all  the  time  since  yesterday 
afternoon?"   Julian   persisted. 

"The  young  lady  wished  it  left  there,  sir.  I  could 
have  put  a  couple  of  plugs  in,  in  five  minutes,  and 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  31 

brought  her  up  to  the  house,  but  she  wouldn't  hear  of 
it." 

"I  see,  Fellowes." 

"Any  luck  witli  the  geese  last  night,  sir?"  the  man 
asked.  "I  heard  there  was  a  pack  of  them  on 
StifFkey  Marshes." 

"I  got  one.  They  came  badly  for  us,"  Julian  re- 
plied. 

He  made  his  way  up  the  avenue.  At  exactly  the 
spot  indicated  by  the  chauffeur  a  little  coupe  car  was 
standing,  drawn  on  to  the  turf.  He  glanced  at  the 
name  of  the  maker  and  looked  once  more  at  the 
tracks  upon  the  drive.  Finally,  he  decided  that  his 
investigations  were  leading  him  in  a  most  undesirable 
direction. 

He  turned  back,  walked  across  the  marshes,  where 
he  found  nothing  to  disturb  him,  and  lunched  with 
Furley,  whose  leg  was  now  so  much  better  that  he 
was  able  to  put  it  to  the  ground. 

"What  about  this  visitor  of  yours?"  Julian  asked, 
as  they  sat  smoking  afterwards.  "I  must  be  back 
at  the  Hall  in  time  to  dine  to-night,  you  know.  My 
people  made  rather  a  point  of  it." 

Furley  nodded. 

"You'll  be  all  right,"  he  replied.  "As  a  matter 
of  fact,  he  isn't  coming." 

"Not  coming?"  Julian  repeated.  **Jove,  I  should 
have  thought  you'd  have  had  intelligence  officers  by 
the  dozen  down  here !" 


S2  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"For  some  reason  or  other,"  Furley  confided,  "the 
affair  has  been  handed  over  to  the  military  au- 
thorities. I  have  had  a  man  down  to  see  me  this 
morning,  and  he  has  taken  full  particulars.  I  don't 
know  that  they'll  even  worry  you  at  all — until  later 
on,  at  any  rate." 

"Jove,  that  seems  queer !" 

"Last  night's  happening  was  queer,  for  that  mat- 
ter," Furley  continued.  "Their  only  chance,  I  sup- 
pose, of  getting  to  the  bottom  of  it  is  to  lie  doggo  as 
far  as  possible.  It  isn't  like  a  police  affair,  you  see. 
They  don't  want  witnesses  and  a  court  of  justice. 
One  man's  word  and  a  rifle  barrel  does  the  trick." 

Julian  sighed. 

"I  suppose,"  he  observed,  "that  if  I  do  my  duty 
as  a  loyal  subject,  I  shall  drop  the  curtain  on  last 
night.  Seems  a  pity  to  have  had  an  adventure 
like  that  and  not  be  able  to  open  one's  mouth  about 
it." 

Furley  grunted. 

"You  don't  want  to  join  the  noble  army  of  gas 
bags,"  he  said.  "Much  better  make  up  your  mind 
that  it  was  a  dream." 

"There  are  times,"  Julian  confided,  "when  I  am  not 
quite  sure  that  it  wasn't." 


CHAPTER  III 

Julian  entered  the  drawing-room  at  Maltenby 
Hall  a  few  minutes  before  dinner  time  that  evening. 
His  mother,  who  was  alone  and,  for  a  wonder,  rest- 
ing, held  out  her  hand  for  him  to  kiss  and  welcomed 
him  with  a  charming  smile.  Notwithstanding  her 
grey  hair,  she  was  still  a  remarkably  young-looking 
woman,  with  a  great  reputation  as  a  hostess. 

"My  dear  Julian,"  she  exclaimed,  "you  look  like 
a  ghost !  Don't  tell  me  that  you  had  to  sit  up  all 
night  to  shoot  those  wretched  duck?" 

Julian  drew  a  chair  to  his  mother's  side  and  seated 
himself  with  a  little  air  of  relief. 

"Never  have  I  been  more  conscious  of  the  inroads 
of  age,"  he  confided.  "I  can  remember  when,  ten 
or  fifteen  years  ago,  I  used  to  steal  out  of  the  house 
in  the  darkness  and  bicycle  down  to  the  marsh  with 
a  twenty-bore  gun,  on  the  chance  of  an  odd  shot," 

"And  I  suppose,"  his  mother  went  on,  "after 
spending  half  the  night  wading  about  in  the  salt 
water,  you  spent  the  other  half  talking  to  that  ter- 
rible Mr.  Furley." 

"Quite  right.  We  got  cold  and  wet  through  in 
the  evening;  we  sat  up  talking  till  the  small  hours; 


34  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

we  got  cold  and  wet  again  this  morning — and  here  I 
am." 

**A  converted  sportsman,"  his  mother  observed. 
"I  wish  you  could  convert  your  friend,  Mr.  Furley. 
There's  a  perfectly  terrible  article  of  his  in  th{.> 
National  this  month.  I  can't  understand  a  word 
of  it,  but  it  reads  like  sheer  anarchy." 

"So  long  as  the  world  exists,"  Julian  remarked, 
*'there  must  be  Socialists,  and  Furley  is  at  least 
honest." 

"My  dear  Julian,"  his  mother  protested,  "how  can 
a  Socialist  be  honest !  Their  attitude  with  regard 
to  the  war,  too,  is  simply  disgraceful.  I  am  sure 
that  in  any  other  country  that  man  Fenn,  for  in- 
stance, would  be  shot." 

"What  about  your  house  party  .P"  Julian  enquired, 
with  bland  irrelevance. 

"All  arrived.  I  suppose  they'll  be  down  directly. 
Mr.  Hannaway  Wells  is  here." 

"Good  old  Wells !"  Julian  murmured.  "How  does 
he  look  since  he  became  a  Cabinet  Minister.'"' 

**Portentous,"  Lady  Maltenby  replied,  with  a 
smile.  "He  doesn't  look  as  though  he  would  ever 
unbend.  Then  the  Shervintons  are  here,  and  the 
Princess  Torski — your  friend  Miss  Abbeway's 
aunt." 

"The  Princess  Torski.?"  Julian  repeated.  "Who 
on  earth  is  she.''" 

"She  was  English,"  his  mother  explained,  "a  cousin 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  36 

of  the  Abbeways.  She  married  in  Russia  and  is  on 
her  way  now  to  France  to  meet  her  husband,  who  is 
in  command  of  a  Russian  battalion  there.  She  seems 
quite  a  pleasant  person,  but  not  in  the  least  like  her 
niece." 

"Miss  Abbeway  is  still  here,  of  course.'"' 

"Naturally.  I  asked  her  for  a  week,  and  I  think 
she  means  to  stay.  We  talked  for  an  hour  after  tea 
this  afternoon,  and  I  found  her  most  interesting. 
She  has  been  living  in  England  for  years,  it  seems, 
down  in  Chelsea,  studying  sculpture." 

"She  is  a  remarkably  clever  young  woman,"  Julian 
said  thoughtfully,  "but  a  little  incomprehensible.  If 
the  Princess  Torski  is  her  aunt,  who  were  her  par- 
ents.?" 

"Her  father,"  the  Countess  replied,  "was  Colonel 
Richard  Abbeway,  who  seems  to  have  been  military 
attache  at  St.  Petersburg,  years  ago.  He  married 
a  sister  of  the  Princess  Torski's  husband,  and  from 
her  this  young  woman  inherited  a  title  which  she 
won't  use  and  a  large  fortune.  Colonel  Abbeway 
was  killed  accidentally  in  the  Russo-Japanese  War, 
and  her  mother  died  a  few  years  ago." 

"No  German  blood,  or  anything  of  that  sort, 
then?" 

"My  dear  boy,  what  an  idea !"  his  mother  ex- 
claimed reprovingly.  "On  the  contrary,  the  Torskis 
are  one  of  the  most  aristocratic  families  in  Russia, 
and  you  know  what  the  Abbeways  are.     The  girl  is 


36  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

excellently  bred,  and  I  think  her  charming  in  every 
way.  Whatever  made  you  suggest  that  she  might 
have  German  blood  in  her?" 

"No  idea !  Anyhow,  I  am  glad  she  hasn't.  Who 
else?" 

"The  Bishop,"  his  mother  continued,  "looking 
very  tired,  poor  dear !  Doctor  George  Lennard, 
from  Oxford,  two  young  soldiers  from  Norwich, 
whom  Charlie  asked  us  to  be  civil  to — and  the  great 
man  himself." 

"Tell  me  about  the  great  man  ?  I  don't  think  I've 
seen  him  to  speak  to  since  he  became  Prime  Min- 
ister." 

"He  declares  that  this  is  his  first  holiday  this 
year.  He  is  looking  rather  tired,  but  he  has  had  an 
hour's  shooting  since  he  arrived,  and  seemed  to  enjoy 
it.     Here's  your  father." 

The  Earl  of  Maltenby,  who  entered  a  moment 
later,  was  depressingly  typical.  He  was  as  tall  as 
his  youngest  son,  with  whom  he  shook  hands  ab- 
sently and  whom  he  resembled  in  no  other  way.  He 
had  the  conventionally  aristocratic  features,  thin 
lips  and  steely  blue  eyes.  He  was  apparently  a  little 
annoyed. 

"Anything  wrong,  dear?"  Lady  Maltenby  asked. 

Her  husband  took  up  his  position  on  the  hearth- 
rug. 

"I  am  annoyed  with  Stenson,"  he  declared. 

The  Countess  shook  her  head. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  87 

"It's  too  bad  of  you,  Henry,"  she  expostulated. 
"You've  been  trying  to  talk  politics  with  him.  You 
know  that  the  poor  man  was  only  longing  for  forty- 
eight  hours  during  which  he  could  forget  that  he 
was  Prime  Minister  of  England." 

"Precisely,  my  dear,"  Lord  Maltenby  agreed.  "I 
can  assure  you  that  I  have  not  transgressed  in  any 
way.  A  remark  escaped  me  referring  to  the  im- 
possibility of  providing  beaters,  nowadays,  and  to 
the  fact  that  out  of  my  seven  keepers,  five  are  fight- 
ing. I  consider  Mr.  Stenson's  comment  was  most 
improper,  coming  from  one  to  whom  the  destinies  of 
this  country  are  confided." 

"What  did  he  say?"  the  Countess  asked  meekly. 

"Something  about  wondering  whether  any  man 
would  be  allowed  to  have  seven  keepers  after  the 
war,"  her  husband  replied,  with  an  angry  light  in 
his  eyes.  "If  a  man  like  Stenson  is  going  to  en- 
courage these  socialistic  ideas.  I  beg  your  pardon — 
the  Bishop,  my  dear." 

The  remaining  guests  drifted  in  within  the  next 
few  moments, — the  Bishop,  Julian's  godfather,  a 
curious  blend  of  the  fashionable  and  the  devout,  the 
anchorite  and  the  man  of  the  people ;  Lord  and 
Lady  Shervinton,  elderly  connections  of  the  nonde- 
script variety ;  Mr.  Hannaway  Wells,  reserved  yet 
urbane,  a  wonderful  type  of  the  supreme  success  of 
mediocrity;  a  couple  of  young  soldiers,  light-hearted 
and    out    for    a    good   time,    of   whom   Julian    took 


38  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

charge;  an  Oxford  don,  who  had  once  been  Lord 
Maltenby's  tutor;  and  last  of  all  the  homely,  very 
pleasant-looking,  middle-aged  lady,  Princess  Torski, 
followed  by  her  niece.  There  were  a  few  introduc- 
tions still  to  be  effected. 

Whilst  Lady  Maltenby  was  engaged  in  this  task, 
which  she  performed  at  all  times  with  the  unfailing 
tact  of  a  great  hostess,  Julian  broke  off  in  his  con- 
versation with  the  two  soldiers  and  looked  stead- 
fastly across  the  room  at  Catherine  Abbeway,  as 
though  anxious  to  revise  or  complete  his  earlier  im- 
pressions of  her.  She  was  of  medium  height,  not 
unreasonably  slim,  with  a  deliberate  but  noticeably 
graceful  carriage.  Her  complexion  was  inclined  to 
be  pale.  She  had  large,  soft  brown  eyes,  and  hair 
of  an  unusual  shade  of  chestnut  brown,  arranged 
with  remarkably  effective  simplicit}^  She  wore  a 
long  string  of  green  beads  around  her  neck,  a  black 
tulle  gown  without  any  relief  of  colour,  but  a  little 
daring  in  its  cut.  Her  voice  and  laugh,  as  she  stood 
talking  to  the  Bishop,  were  delightful,  and  neither 
her  gestures  nor  her  accent  betrayed  the  slightest 
trace  of  foreign  blood.  She  was,  without  a  doubt, 
extraordinarily  attractive,  gracious  almost  to  free- 
dom in  her  manner,  and  yet  with  that  peculiar  qual- 
ity of  aloofness  onl}^  recognisable  in  the  elect, — a 
very  appreciable  charm.  Julian  found  his  un- 
doubted admiration  only  increased  by  his  closer 
scrutiny.     Nevertheless,  as  he  watched  her,  there  was 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  S9 

a  slightly  puzzled  frown  upon  his  forehead,  a  sense 
of  something  like  bewilderment  mingled  with  those 
other  feelings.  His  mother,  who  had  turned  to  speak 
to  the  object  of  his  attentions,  beckoned  him,  and  he 
crossed  the  room  at  once  to  their  side. 

"Julian  is  going  to  take  you  in  to  dinner,  Miss 
Abbeway,"  the  Countess  announced,  "and  I  hope  you 
will  be  kind  to  him,  for  he's  been  out  all  night  and  a 
good  part  of  the  morning,  too,  shooting  ducks  and 
talking  nonsense  with  a  terrible  Socialist." 

Lady  Maltenby  passed  on.  Julian,  leaning  on  his 
stick,  looked  down  with  a  new  interest  into  the  face 
which  had  seldom  been  out  of  his  thoughts  since  their 
first  meeting,  a  few  weeks  ago. 

"Tell  me,  Mr.  Orden,"  she  asked,  "which  did  you 
find  the  more  exhausting — tramping  the  marshes  for 
sport,  or  discussing  sociology  with  your  friend?" 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  he  replied,  *Ve  didn't  tramp 
the  marshes.  We  stood  still  and  got  uncommonly 
wet.  And  I  shot  a  goose,  which  made  me  very 
happy." 

"Then  it  must  have  been  the  conversation,"  she 
declared.  "Is  your  friend  a  prophet  or  only  one 
of  the  multitude?" 

"A  prophet,  most  decidedly.  He  is  a  Mr.  Miles 
Furley,  of  whom  you  must  have  heard." 

She  started  a  little. 

"Miles  Furley !"  she  repeated.  "I  had  no  idea 
that  he  lived  in  this  part  of  the  world." 


40  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"He  has  a  small  country  house  somewhere  in  Nor- 
folk," Julian  told  her,  "and  he  takes  a  cottage  down 
here  at  odd  times  for  the  wild-fowl  shooting." 

"Will  you  take  me  to  see  him  to-morrow?"  she 
asked. 

"With  pleasure,  so  long  as  you  promise  not  to  talk 
socialism  with  him." 

"I  will  promise  that  readily,  out  of  consideration 
to  my  escort.  I  wonder  how  it  is,"  she  went  on, 
looking  up  at  him  a  little  thoughtfully,  "that  you 
dislike  serious  subjects  so  much." 

"A  frivolous  turn  of  mind,  I  suppose,"  he  replied. 
"I  certainly  prefer  to  talk  art  with  you." 

"But  nowadays,"  she  protested,  "it  is  altogether 
the  fashion  down  at  Chelsea  to  discard  art  and  talk 
politics." 

"It's  a  fashion  I  shouldn't  follow,"  he  advised. 
"I  should  stick  to  art,  if  I  were  you." 

**Well,  that  depends  upon  how  you  define  politics, 
of  course.  I  don't  mean  Party  politics.  I  mean  the 
science  of  living,  as  a  whole,  not  as  a  unit." 

The  Princess  ambled  up  to  them. 

*'I  don't  know  what  your  political  views  are,  Mr. 
Orden,"  she  said,  "but  you  must  look  out  for  shocks 
if  you  discuss  social  questions  with  my  niece.  In  the 
old  days  they  would  never  have  allowed  her  to  live  in 
Russia.  Even  now,  I  consider  some  of  her  doctrines 
the  most  pernicious  I  ever  heard." 

"Isn't  that  terrible  from  an  affectionate  aunt!" 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  41 

Catherine  laughed,  as  the  Princess  passed  on.     "Tell 
me  some  more  about  your  adventures  last  night?" 

She  looked  up  into  his  face,  and  Julian  was  sud- 
denly conscious  from  whence  had  come  that  faint 
sense  of  mysterious  trouble  which  had  been  with  him 
during  the  last  few  minutes.  The  slight  quiver  of 
her  lips  brought  it  all  back  to  him.  Her  mouth, 
beyond  a  doubt,  with  its  half  tender,  half  mocking 
curve,  was  the  mouth  which  he  had  seen  in  that 
tangled  dream  of  his,  when  he  had  lain  fighting  for 
consciousness  upon  the  marshes. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Julian,  absorbed  for  the  first  few  minutes  of  din- 
ner by  the  crystallisation  of  this  new  idea  which  had 
now  taken  a  definite  place  in  his  brain,  found  his 
conversational  powers  somewhat  at  a  discount. 
Catherine  very  soon,  however,  asserted  her  cluim 
upon  his  attention. 

"Please  do  your  duty  and  tell  me  about  things," 
she  begged.  "Remember  that  I  am  Cinderella  from 
Bohemia,  and  I  scarcely  know  a  soul  here." 

"Well,  there  aren't  many  to  find  out  about,  are 
there.''"  he  replied.     "Of  course  you  know  Stenson?" 

"I  have  been  gazing  at  him  with  dilated  eyes," 
she  confided.  "Is  that  not  the  proper  thing  to  do? 
He  seems  to  me  very  ordinary  and  very  hungry." 

"Well,  then,  there  is  the  Bishop." 

"I  knew  him  at  once  from  his  photographs.  He 
must  spend  the  whole  of  the  time  when  he  isn't  in 
church  visiting  the  photographer.  However,  I  like 
him.  He  is  talking  to  my  aunt  quite  amiably. 
Nothing  does  aunt  so  much  good  as  to  sit  next  a 
bishop." 

"The  Shervintons  you  know  all  about,  don't  you?" 
he  went  on.  "The  soldiers  are  just  young  men  from 
the   Norwich    barracks,    Doctor    Lennard    was    my 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  4^ 

father's  tutor  at  Oxford,  and  Mr.  Hannaway  Wells 
is  our  latest  Cabinet  Minister." 

"He  still  has  the  novice's  smirk,"  she  remarked. 
"A  moment  ago  I  heard  him  tell  his  neighbour  that 
he  preferred  not  to  discuss  the  war.  He  probably 
thinks  that  there  is  a  spy  under  the  table." 

"Well,  there  we  are — such  as  we  are,"  Julian  con- 
cluded.    "There  is  no  one  left  except  me." 

"Then  tell  me  all  about  yourself,"  she  suggested. 
**Really,  when  I  come  to  think  of  it,  considering  the 
length  of  our  conversations,  you  have  been  re- 
markably reticent.  You  are  the  youngest  of  the 
family,  are  you  not?  How  many  brothers  are 
there?" 

"There  were  four,"  he  told  her.  "Henry  was. 
killed  at  Ypres  last  year.  Guy  is  out  there  still. 
Richard  is  a  Brigadier." 

"And  you?" 

*'I  am  a  barrister  by  profession,  but  I  went  out 
with  the  first  Inns  of  Court  lot  for  a  little  amateur 
soldiering  and  lost  part  of  my  foot  at  Mons.  Since 
then  I  have  been  indulging  in  the  unremunerative  and 
highly  monotonous  occupation  of  censoring." 

"Monotonous  indeed,  I  should  imagine,"  she 
agreed.  "You  spend  your  time  reading  other 
people's  letters,  do  you  not,  just  to  be  sure  that 
there  are  no  communications  from  the  enemy?" 

"Precisely,"  he  assented.  "We  discover  ciphers 
and  all  sorts  of  things." 


44  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"What  brainy  people  jou  must  be!" 

"We  are,  most  of  us." 

"Do  you  do  anything  else  ?" 

"Well,  I've  given  up  censoring  for  the  present," 
he  confided.     "I  am  going  back  to  my  profession." 

"As  a  barrister?" 

"Just  so.  I  might  add  that  I  do  a  little  hack 
journalism." 

"How  modest !"  she  murmured.  "I  suppose  you 
write  the  leading  articles  for  the  Times!" 

"For  a  very  young  lady,"  Julian  observed  im- 
pressively, "you  have  marvellous  insight.  How  did 
you  guess  my  secret?" 

"I  am  better  at  guessing  secrets  than  you  are," 
she  retorted  a  little  insolently. 

He  was  silent  for  some  moments.  The  faint  curve 
of  her  lips  had  again  given  him  almost  a  shock. 

"Have  you  a  brother?"  he  asked  abruptly. 

"No.     Why?" 

"Because  I  met  some  one  quite  lately — within  the 
last  few  hours,  as  a  matter  of  fact — with  a  mouth 
exactly  like  yours." 

"But  what  a  horrible  thing !"  she  exclaimed,  draw- 
ing out  a  little  mirror  from  the  bag  by  her  side  and 
gazing  into  it.  "How  unpletisant  to  have  any  one 
else  going  about  with  a  mouth  exactly  like  one's 
own !  No,  I  never  had  a  brother,  Mr.  Orden,  or  a 
sister,  and,  as  you  may  have  heard,  I  am  an  enfant 
mechante.     I  live  in  London,  I  model  very  well,  and 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  46 

I  talk  very  bad  sociology.  As  I  think  I  told  you, 
I  know  your  anarchist  friend,  Miles  Furley." 

"I  shouldn't  call  Furley  an  anarchist,"  protested 
Julian. 

"Well,  he  is  a  Socialist.  I  admit  that  we  are 
rather  lax  in  our  definitions.  You  see,  there  is  just 
one  subject,  of  late  years^  which  has  brought  together 
the  Socialists  and  the  Labour  men,  the  Syndicalists 
and  the  Communists,  the  Nationalists  and  the  Inter- 
nationalists. All  those  who  work  for  freedom  are 
learning  breadth.  If  they  ever  find  a  leader,  I  think 
that  this  dear,  smug  country  of  yours  may  have  to 
face  the  greatest  surprise  of  its  existence." 

Julian  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"You  have  ideas,  Miss  Abbeway," 

*'So  unusual  in  a  woman !"  she  mocked.  "Do  you 
notice  how  every  one  is  trying  to  avoid  the  subject 
of  the  war?  I  give  them  another  half-course,  don't 
you?     I  am  sure  they  cannot  keep  it  up." 

"They  won't  go  the  distance,"  Julian  whispered. 
"Listen."  • 

"The  question  to  be  considered,"  Lord  Shervinton 
pronounced,  "is  not  so  much  when  the  war  will 
be  over  as  what  there  is  to  stop  it  ?  That  is  a  point 
which  I  think  we  can  discuss  without  inviting  official 
indiscretions." 

"If  other  means  fail,"  declared  the  Bishop,  "Chris- 
tianity will  stop  it.  The  conscience  of  the  world  is 
already  being  stirred." 


46  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"Our  enemies,"  the  Earl  pronounced  confidently 
from  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  table,  "are  already 
a  broken  race.  They  are  on  the  point  of  exhaustion. 
Austria  is,  if  possible,  in  a  worse  plight.  That  is 
what  will  end  the  war — the  exhaustion  of  our  op- 
ponents." 

"The  deciding  factor,"  Mr.  Hannaway  Wells  put 
in,  with  a  very  non-committal  air,  "will  probably  be 
America.  She  will  bring  her  full  strength  into  the 
struggle  just  at  the  crucial  moment.  She  will  prob- 
ably do  what  we  farther  north  have  as  yet  failed 
to  do:  she  will  pierce  the  line  and  place  the  German 
armies  in  Flanders  in  peril." 

The  Cabinet  Minister's  views  were  popular. 
There  was  a  little  murmur  of  approval,  something 
which  sounded  almost  like  a  purr  of  content.  It 
was  just  one  more  expression  of  that  strangely  dis- 
creditable yet  almost  universal  failing, — the  over- 
reliance  upon  others.  The  quiet  remark  of  the  man 
who  suddenly  saw  fit  to  join  in  the  discussion  struck 
a  chilling  and  a  disturbing  note. 

*'There  is  one  thing  which  could  end  the  war  at 
any  moment,"  Mr.  Stenson  said,  leaning  a  little  for- 
ward, "and  that  is  the  will  of  the  people." 

There  was  perplexity  as  well  as  discomfiture  in  the 
minds  of  his  hearers. 

"The  people?"  Lord  Shervinton  repeated.  "But 
surely  the  people  speak  through  the  mouths  of  their 
rulers  ?" 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  47 

*'They  have  been  content  to,  up  to  the  present," 
the  Prime  Minister  agreed,  "but  Eurepe  may  still 
see  strange  and  dramatic  events  before  many  years 
are  out." 

"Do  go  on,  please,"  the  Countess  begged. 

Mr.  Stenson  shook  his  head. 

"Even  as  a  private  individual  I  have  said  more 
than  I  intended,"  he  replied.  "I  have  only  one  thing 
to  say  about  the  war  in  public,  and  that  is  that  we 
are  winning,  that  we  must  win,  that  our  national 
existence  depends  upon  winning,  and  that  we  shall 
go  on  until  we  do  win.  The  obstacles  between  us 
and  victory,  which  may  remain  in  our  minds,  are  not 
to  be  spoken  of." 

There  was  a  brief  and  somewhat  uncomfortable 
pause.  It  was  understood  that  the  subject  was  to 
be  abandoned.  Julian  addressed  a  question  to  the 
Bishop  across  the  table.  Lord  Maltenby  consulted 
Doctor  Lennard  as  to  the  date  of  the  first  Punic 
War.  Mr.  Stenson  admired  the  flowers.  Catherine, 
who  had  been  sitting  with  her  eyes  riveted  upon 
the  Prime  Minister,  turned  to  her  neighbour. 

"Tell  me  about  your  amateur  journalism,  Mr. 
Orden.''"  she  begged.  "I  have  an  idea  that  it  ought 
to  be  interesting." 

"Deadly  dull,  I  can  assure  you." 

"You  write  about  politics?  Or  perhaps  you  are 
an  art  critic?  I  ought  to  be  on  my  best  behaviour, 
in  case." 


48  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

**I  know  little  about  art,"  he  assured  her.  "My 
chief  interest  in  life — outside  my  profession,  of 
course — ^lies  in  sociology." 

His  little  confession  had  been  impulsive.  She 
raised  her  eyebrows. 

"You  are  in  earnest,  I  believe!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Have  I  really  found  an  Englishman  who  is  in 
earnest?" 

"I  plead  guilty.  It  is  incorrect  philosophy  but  a 
distinct  stimulus  to  life." 

"What  a  pity,"  she  sighed,  "that  you  are  so 
handicapped  by  birth !  Sociology  cannot  mean  any- 
thing very  serious  for  you.  Your  perspective  is  nat- 
urally distorted." 

*'What  about  yourself?"  he  asked  pertinently. 

*'The  vanity  of  us  women !"  she  murmured.  "I 
have  grown  to  look  upon  myself  as  being  an  ex- 
ception. I  forget  that  there  might  be  others.  You 
might  even  be  one  of  our  prophets — a  Paul  Fiske  in 
disguise." 

His  eyes  narrowed  a  little  as  he  looked  at  her 
closely.  From  across  the  table,  the  Bishop  broke 
off  an  interesting  discussion  on  the  subject  of  his  ad- 
dresses to  the  working  classes,  and  the  Earl  set  down 
his  wineglass  with  an  impatient  gesture. 

"Does  no  one  reall}^  know,"  Mr.  Stenson  asked, 
"who  Paul  Fiske  is.?" 

"No  one,  sir,"  Mr.  Hannaway  Wells  replied.  "I 
thought  it  wise,  a  short  time  ago,  to  set  on  foot  the 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  49 

most  searching  enquiries,  but  they  were  absolutely 
fruitless." 

The  Bishop  coughed. 

"I  must  plead  guilty,"  he  confessed,  *'to  having 
visited  the  offices  of  The  Monthly  Review  with  the 
same  object.  I  left  a  note  for  him  there,  in  charge 
of  the  editor,  inviting  him  to  a  conference  at  my 
house.  I  received  no  repl}*.  His  anonymity  seems 
to  be  impregnable." 

"Whoever  he  may  be,"  the  Earl  declared,  "he 
ought  to  be  muzzled.  He  is  a  traitor  to  his  coun- 
try." 

"I  cannot  agree  with  you.  Lord  Maltenby,"  the 
Bishop  said  firmly.  "The  very  danger  of  the  man's 
doctrines  lies  in  their  clarity  of  thought,  their  ex- 
traordinary proximity  to  the  fundamental  truths  of 
life." 

"The  man  is,  at  any  rate,"  Doctor  Lennard  in- 
terposed, "the  most  brilliant  anonjmious  writer  since 
the  days  of  Swift  and  the  letters  of  Junius." 

Mr.  Stenson  for  a  moment  hesitated.  He  seemed 
uncertain  whether  or  no  to  join  in  the  conversation. 
Finally,   impulse   swayed  him. 

"Let  us  all  be  thankful,"  he  said,  "that  Paul  Fiske 
is  content  with  the  written  word.  If  the  democracy 
of  England  found  themselves  to-day  with  such  a 
leader,  it  is  he  who  would  be  ruling  the  country,  and 
not  I." 

"The  man  is  a  pacifist !"  the  Earl  protested. 


50  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"So  we  all  are,"  the  Bishop  declared  warmly. 
"We  are  all  pacifists  in  the  sense  that  we  are  lovers 
of  peace.  There  is  not  one  of  us  who  does  not  de- 
plore the  horrors  of  to-day.  There  is  not  one  of 
us  who  is  not  passionately  seeking  for  the  master 
mind  which  can  lead  us  out  of  it." 

"There  is  only  one  way  out,"  the  Earl  insisted, 
"and  that  is  to  beat  the  enemy." 

"It  is  the  only  obvious  waj',"  Julian  intervened, 
joining  in  the  conversation  for  the  first  time,  "but 
meanwhile,  with  every  tick  of  the  clock  a  fellow 
creature  dies." 

"It  is  a  question,"  Mr.  Hannaway  Wells  reflected, 
*Svhether  the  present  generation  is  not  inclined  to 
be  mawkish  with  regard  to  hinnan  life.  History  has 
shown  us  the  marvellous  benefits  which  have  accrued 
to  the  greatest  nations  through  the  lessening  of 
population  by  means  of  warfare." 

"History  has  also  shown  us,"  Doctor  Lennard  ob- 
served, "that  the  last  resource  of  force  is  force.  No 
brain  has  ever  yet  devised  a  logical  scheme  for  in- 
ternational arbitration." 

"Human  nature,  I  am  afraid,  has  changed  ex- 
traordinarily little  since  the  days  of  the  Philistines," 
the  Bishop  confessed. 

Julian  turned  to  his  companion. 

"Well,  they've  all  settled  it  amongst  themselves, 
haven't  they?"  he  murmured.  "Here  you  may  sit 
and  listen  to  what  may  be  called  the  modern  voice." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  »1 

**Yet  there  is  one  thing  wanting,"  she  whispered. 
"What  do  you  suppose,  if  he  were  here  at  this  mo- 
ment, Paul  Fiske  Avould  say?  Do  you  think  that 
he  would  be  content  to  listen  to  these  brazen  voices 
and  accept  their  verdict?" 

"Without  irreverence,"  Julian  answered,  "or  com- 
parison, would  Jesus  Christ?" 

"With  the  same  proviso,"  she  retorted,  "I  might 
reply  that  Jesus  Christ,  from  all  we  know  of  him, 
might  reign  wonderfully  in  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven, 
but  he  certainly  wouldn't  be  able  to  keep  together 
a  Cabinet  in  Downing  Street !  Still,  I  am  beginning 
to  believe  in  your  sincerity.  Do  you  think  that  Paul 
Fiske  is  sincere?" 

"I  believe,"  Julian  replied,  "that  he  sees  the  truth 
and  struggles  to  express  it." 

The  women  were  leaving  the  table.  She  leaned 
towards  him. 

"Please  do  not  be  long,"  she  whispered.  "You 
must  admit  that  I  have  been  an  admirable  dinner 
companion.  I  have  talked  to  30U  all  the  time  on 
your  own  subject.  You  must  come  and  talk  to  me 
presently  about  art." 

Julian,  with  his  hand  on  the  back  of  his  chair, 
watched  the  women  pass  out  of  the  soft  halo  of  the 
electric  lights  into  the  gloomier  shadows  of  the  high, 
Taulted  room,  Catherine  a  little  slimmer  than  most 
of  the  others,  and  with  a  strange  grace  of  slow  move- 
ment which  must  have  come  to  her  from  some  Russian 


52  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

ancestor.  Her  last  words  lingered  in  his  mind.  He 
was  to  talk  to  her  about  art !  A  fleeting  vision  of 
the  youth  in  the  yellow  oilskins  mocked  him.  He 
remembered  his  morning's  tramp  and  the  broken- 
down  motor-car  under  the  trees.  The  significance 
of  these  things  was  beginning  to  take  shape  in  his 
mind.     He  resumed  his  seat,  a  little  dazed. 


CHAPTER  V 

Maltenby  was  one  of  those  old-fashioned  houses 
where  the  port  is  served  as  a  lay  sacrament  and  the 
call  of  the  drawing-room  is  responded  to  tardily. 
After  the  departure  of  the  women,  Doctor  Lennard 
drew  his  chair  up  to  Julian's. 

"An  interesting  face,  your  dinner  companion's," 
he  remarked.  "They  tell  me  that  she  is  a  very 
brilliant  young  lady." 

"She  certainly  has  gifts,"  acknowledged  Julian. 

*'I  watched  her  whilst  she  was  talking  to  you,"  the 
Oxford  don  continued.  "She  is  one  of  those  rare 
young  women  whose  undoubted  beauty  is  put  into 
the  background  by  their  general  attractiveness. 
Lady  Maltenby  was  telling  me  fragments  of  her  his- 
tory. It  appears  that  she  is  thinking  of  giving  up 
her  artistic  career  for  some  sort  of  sociological 
work." 

"It  is  curious,"  Julian  reflected,  "how  the  cause 
of  the  people  has  always  appealed  to  gifted  Rus- 
sians. England,  for  instance,  produces  no  real 
democrats  of  genius.  Russia  seems  to  claim  a  mo- 
nopoly of  them." 

"There  is  nothing  so  stimulating  as  a  sense  of  in- 
justice for  bringing  the  best  out  of  a  man  or  woman," 


54.  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

Doctor  Lennard  pointed  out.  "Russia,  of  course, 
for  many  years  has  been  shamefully  misgoverned." 

The  conversation,  owing  to  the  intervention  of 
other  of  the  guests,  became  general  and  platitudinal. 
Soon  after,  Mr.  Stenson  rose  and  excused  himself. 
His  secretary,  who  had  been  at  the  telephone,  desired 
a  short  conference.  There  was  a  brief  silence  after 
his  departure. 

"Stenson,"  the  Oxonian  observed,  "is  beginning  to 
show  signs  of  strain." 

"Why  not?"  Lord  Shervinton  pointed  out.  "He 
came  into  office  full  of  the  most  wonderful  en- 
thusiasm. His  speeches  rang  through  the  world  like 
a  clarion  note.  He  converted  waverers.  He  lit  fires 
which  still  burn.  But  he  is  a  man  of  movement. 
This  present  stagnation  is  terribly  irksome  to  him. 
I  heard  him  speak  last  week,  and  I  was  disappointed. 
He  seems  to  have  lost  his  inspiration.  What  he 
needs  is  a  stimulus  of  some  sort,  even  of  disaster." 

"I  wonder,"  the  Bishop  reflected,  "if  he  is  really 
afraid  of  the  people.?" 

"I  consider  his  remark  concerning  them  most  ill- 
advised,"  Lord  Maltenby  declared  pompously. 

"I  know  the  people,"  the  Bishop  continued,  "and 
I  love  them.  I  think,  too,  that  they  trust  me.  Yet 
I  am  not  sure  that  I  cannot  see  a  glimmering  of 
what  is  at  the  back  of  Stenson's  mind.  There  are  a 
good  many  millions  in  the  country  who  honestly  be- 
lieve  that   war   is   primarily   an   affair   of   the  pol- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  65 

iticians ;  who  believe,  too,  that  victory  means  a  great 
deal  more  to  what  they  term  *the  upper  classes'  than 
it  does  to  them.  Yet,  in  every  sense  of  the  word, 
they  are  bearing  an  equal  portion  of  the  fight,  be- 
cause, when  it  comes  down  to  human  life,  the  life  of 
the  farm  labourer's  son  is  of  the  same  intrinsic  value 
as  the  life  of  the  peer's." 

Lord  Maltenby  moved  a  little  in  his  chair.  There 
was  a  slight  frown  upon  his  aristocratic  forehead. 
He  disagreed  entirely  with  the  speaker,  with  whom 
he  feared,  however,  to  cross  swords.  Mr.  Han- 
naway  Wells,  who  had  been  waiting  for  his  oppor- 
tunity, took  charge  of  the  conversation.  He  spoke 
in  a  reserved  manner,  his  fingers  playing  with  the 
stem  of  his  wineglass. 

"I  must  confess,"  he  said,  "that  I  feel  the  deepest 
interest  in  what  the  Bishop  has  just  said.  I  could 
not  talk  to  you  about  the  military  situation,  even  if 
I  knew  more  than  you  do,  which  is  not  the  case,  but 
I  think  it  is  clear  that  we  have  reached  something 
like  a  temporary  impasse.  There  certainly  seems  to 
be  no  cause  for  alarm  upon  any  front,  yet,  not  only 
in  London,  but  in  Paris  and  even  Rome,  there  is  a 
curious  uneasiness  afoot,  for  which  no  one  can  ac- 
count— which  no  one  can  bring  home  to  any  definite 
cause.  In  the  same  connection,  we  have  confidential 
information  that  a  new  spirit  of  hopefulness  is 
abroad  in  German^'.  It  has  been  reported  to  us  that 
sober,  clear-thinking  men — and  there  are  a  few  of 


56  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

them,  even  in  Germany — ^have  predicted  peace  before 
a  month  is  out." 

"The  assumption  is,"  Doctor  Lennard  inter- 
polated, *'that  Germany  has  something  up  her 
sleeve." 

"That  is  not  only  the  assumption,"  the  Cabinet 
Minister  replied,  "but  it  is  also,  I  believe,  the  truth." 

"One  could  apprehend  and  fear  a  great  possible 
danger,"  Lord  Shervinton  observed,  "if  the  Labour 
Party  in  Germany  were  as  strong  as  ours,  or  if  our 
own  Labour  Party  were  entirely  united.  The  pres- 
ent conditions,  however,  seem  to  me  to  give  no  cause 
for  alarm." 

"That  is  where  I  think  you  are  wrong,"  Hannaway 
Wells  declared.  "If  the  Labour  Party  in  Germany 
were  as  strong  as  ours,  they  would  be  strong  enough 
to  overthrow  the  Hohenzollem  clique,  to  stamp  out 
the  militarism  against  which  we  are  at  war,  to  lay 
the  foundations  of  a  great  German  republic  with 
whom  we  could  make  the  sort  of  peace  for  which 
every  Englishman  hopes.  The  danger,  the  real 
danger  which  we  have  to  face,  would  lie  in  an  amal- 
gamation of  the  Labour  Party,  the  Socialists  and  the 
Syndicalists  in  this  country,  and  in  their  insisting 
upon  treating  with  the  weak  Labour  Party  in  Ger- 
many." 

"I  agree  with  the  Bishop,"  Julian  pronounced. 
**The  unclassified  democracy  of  our  country  may  be- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  6T 

lieve  itself  hardly  treated,  but  individually  it  is  in- 
tensely patriotic.  I  do  not  believe  that  its  leaders 
would  force  the  hand  of  the  country  towards  peace, 
unless  they  received  full  assurance  that  their  con- 
freres in  Germany  were  able  to  assume  a  dominant 
place  in  the  government  of  that  country — a  place 
at  least  equal  to  the  influence  of  the  democracy 
here." 

Doctor  Lennard  glanced  at  the  speaker  a  little 
curiously.  He  had  known  Julian  since  he  was  a  boy 
but  had  never  regarded  him  as  anything  but  a  dilet- 
tante. 

"You  may  not  know  it,"  he  said,  "but  you  are 
practically  expounding  the  views  of  that  extraordi- 
nary writer  of  whom  we  were  speaking — Paul  Fiske." 

"I  have  been  told,"  the  Bishop  remarked,  cracking 
a  walnut,  "that  Paul  Fiske  is  the  pseudonym  of  a 
Cabinet  Minister." 

"And  I,"  Hannaway  Wells  retorted,  "have  been 
informed  most  credibly  that  he  is  a  Church  of  Eng- 
land clergyman." 

"The  last  rumour  I  heard,"  Lord  Shervinton  put 
in,  'Svas  that  he  is  a  grocer  in  a  small  way  of  bus- 
iness at  Wigan." 

"Dear  me!"  Doctor  Lennard  remarked.  "The 
gossips  have  covered  enough  ground !  A  man  at  a 
Bohemian  club  of  which  I  am  a  member — the  Savage 
Club,  in  fact — assured  me  that  he  was  an  opium- 


58  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

drugged  journalist,  kept  alive  by  the  cl^arity  of  a 
few  friends ;  a  human  wreck,  who  was  once  the  editor 
of  an  important  London  paper." 

"You  have  some  slight  connection  with  journalism, 
have  you  not,  Julian?"  the  Earl  asked  his  son  con- 
descendingly.    "Have  you  heard  no  reports?" 

"Many,"  Julian  replied,  "but  none  which  I  have 
been  disposed  to  credit.  I  should  imagine,  myself, 
that  Paul  Fiske  is  a  man  who  believes,  having  created 
a  public,  that  his  written  words  find  an  added  value 
from  the  fact  that  he  obviously  desires  neither  re- 
ward nor  recognition;  just  in  the  same  way  as  the 
really  earnest  democrats  of  twenty  years  ago  scoffed 
at  the  idea  of  a  seat  in  Parliament,  or  of  breaking 
bread  in  any  way  with  the  enemy." 

"It  was  a  fine  spirit,  that,"  the  Bishop  declared. 
"I  am  not  sure  that  we  are  not  all  of  us  a  little 
over-inclined  towards  compromises.  The  sapping 
away  of  conscience  is  so  easy." 

The  dining-room  door  was  thrown  open,  and  the 
butler  announced  a  visitor, 

"Colonel  Henderson,  your  lordship." 

They  all  turned  around  in  their  places.  The 
colonel,  a  fine,  military-looking  figure  of  a  man,  shook 
hands  with  Lord  Maltenby. 

"My  most  profound  apologies,  sir,"  he  said,  as  he 
accepted  a  chair.  "The  Countess  was  kind  enough 
to  say  that  if  I  were  not  able  to  get  away  in  time 
for  dinner,  I  might  come  up  afterwards." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  59 

"You  are  sure  that  you  have  dined?" 

"I  had  something  at  Mess,  thank  you." 

"A  glass  of  port,  then?" 

The  Colonel  helped  himself  from  the  decanter 
which  was  passed  towards  him  and  exchanged  greet- 
ings with  several  of  the  guests  to  whom  his  host 
introduced  him. 

"N^o  raids  or  invasions,  I  hope,  Colonel  ?"  the  latter 
asked. 

"Nothing  quite  so  serious  as  that,  I  am  glad  to 
say.  We  have  had  a  little  excitement  of  another 
sort,  though.  One  of  my  men  caught  a  spy  this 
morning." 

Every  one  was  interested.  Even  after  three  years 
of  war,  there  was  still  something  fascinating  about 
the  word. 

"Dear  me !"  Lord  Maltenby  exclaimed.  "I  should 
scarcely  have  considered  our  out-of-the-way  part  of 
the  world  sufficiently  important  to  attract  attentions 
of  that  sort." 

"It  was  a  matter  of  communication,"  the  Colonel 
confided.  "There  was  an  enemy  submarine  off  here 
last  night,  and  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  a  mes- 
sage was  landed.  We  caught  one  fellow  just  at 
dawn." 

'What  did  you  do  with  him?"  the  Bishop  asked. 

"We  shot  him  an  hour  ago,"  was  the  cool  reply. 

"Are  there  any  others  at  large?"  Julian  enquired, 
leaniniT  forwnrd. 


60  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

*'One  other,"  the  Colonel  acknowledged,  sipping  his 
wine  appreciatively.  "My  military  police  here,  how- 
ever, are  very  intelligent,  and  I  should  think  it  very 
doubtful  whether  he  can  escape." 

*'Was  the  man  who  was  shot  a  foreigner.''"  the 
Earl  asked.  "I  trust  that  he  was  not  one  of  my 
tenants  ?" 

"He  was  a  stranger,"  was  the  prompt  assurance. 

"And  his  companion.?"  Julian  ventured. 

"His  companion  is  believed  to  have  been  quite  a 
youth.  There  is  a  suggestion  that  he  escaped  in  a 
motor-car,  but  he  is  probably  hiding  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood." 

Lord  Maltenby  frowned.  There  seemed  to  him 
something  incongruous  in  the  fact  that  a  deed  of 
this  sort  should  have  been  committed  in  his  domain 
without  his  knowledge.     He  rose  to  his  feet. 

"The  Countess  is  probably  relying  upon  some  of 
us  for  bridge,"  he  said.  "I  hope,  Colonel,  that  you 
will  take  a  hand." 

The  men  rose  and  filed  slowly  out  of  the  room. 
The  Colonel,  however,  detained  his  host,  and  Julian 
also   lingered. 

"I  hope.  Lord  Maltenby,"  the  former  said,  "that 
you  will  excuse  my  men,  but  they  tell  me  tliat  they 
find  it  necessary  to  search  your  garage  for  a  car 
which  has  been  seen  in  the  neighbourhood." 

"Search  my  garage.''"  Lord  Maltenby  repeated, 
frowning. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  61 

"There  is  no  doubt,"  the  Colonel  explained,  "that 
a  car  was  made  use  of  last  night  by  the  n>an  who  is 
still  at  large,  and  it  is  verj'  possible  that  it  was 
stolen.  You  will  understand,  I  am  sure,  that  any 
enquiries  which  my  men  may  feel  it  their  duty  to 
make  are  actuated  entirely  by  military  necessity." 

"Quite  so,"  the  Earl  acceded,  still  a  little  puzzled. 
"You  will  find  my  head  chauffeur  a  most  responsible 
man.  He  will,  I  am  sure,  give  them  every  possible 
information.  So  far  as  I  am  aware,  however,  there 
is  no  strange  car  in  the  garage.  Do  you  know  of 
any,  Julian?" 

"Only  Miss  Abbeway*s,"  his  son  replied.  "Her 
little  Panhard  was  out  in  the  avenue  all  night,  wait- 
ing for  her  to  put  some  plugs  in.  Every  one  else 
seems  to  have  come  by  train." 

Tlie  Colonel  raised  his  eyebrows  very  slightly  and 
moved  slowly  towards  the  door. 

"The  matter  is  in  the  hands  of  my  police,"  he  said, 
"but  if  you  could  excuse  me  for  half  a  moment.  Lord 
Maltenby,  I  should  like  to  speak  to  your  head 
chauffeur." 

"By  all  means,"  the  Earl  replied.  "I  will  take 
you  round  to  the  garage  myself." 


CHAPTER  VI 

Julian  entered  the  drawing-room  hurriedly  a  few 
minutes  later.  He  glanced  around  quickly,  con- 
scious of  a  distinct  feeling  of  disappointment.  His 
mother,  who  was  arranging  a  bridge  table,  called  him 
over  to  her  side. 

"You  have  the  air,  my  dear  boy,  of  missing  some 
one,"  she  remarked  with  a  smile. 

"I  want  particularly  to  speak  to  Miss  Abbeway," 
he  confided. 

Lady  Maltenby  snuled  tolerantly. 

*'After  nearly  two  hours  of  conversation  at  dinner  ! 
Well,  I  won't  keep  you  in  suspense.  She  wanted  a 
quiet  place  to  write  some  letters,  so  I  sent  her  into 
the  boudoir." 

Julian  hastened  off,  with  a  word  of  thanks.  The 
boudoir  was  a  small  room  opening  from  the  suite 
which  had  been  given  to  the  Princess  and  her  niece: 
a  quaint,  almost  circular  apartment,  hung  with  faded 
blue  Chinese  silk  and  furnished  with  fragments  of 
the  Louis  Seize  period, — a  rosewood  cabinet,  in  par- 
ticular, which  had  come  from  Versailles,  and  which 
was  always  associated  in  Julian's  mind  with  the  faint 
fragrance  of  two  Sevres  jars  of  dried  rose  leaves. 
Tlie  door  opened  almost  noiselessly. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  68 

Catherine,  who  was  seated  before  a  small,  ebony 
writing  table,  turned  her  head  at  his  entrance. 

^'You?**  she  exclaimed. 

Julian  listened  for  a  moment  and  then  closed  the 
door.  She  sat  watching  him,  with  the  pen  still  in 
her  fingers. 

"Miss  Abbeway,"  he  said,  "have  you  heard  any 
news  this  evening?" 

The  pen  with  which  she  had  been  tapping  the 
table  was  suddenly  motionless.  She  turned  a  little 
farther  around. 

"News.?"  she  repeated,     "No!     Is  there  any?" 

"A  man  was  caught  upon  the  marshes  this  morn- 
ing and  shot  an  hour  ago.  They  say  that  he  was  a 
spy." 

She  sat  as  though  turned  to  stone. 

"Well?" 

**The  military  police  are  still  hunting  for  his  com- 
panion. They  are  now  searching  the  garage  here  to 
see  if  they  can  find  a  small,  grey,  coupe  car." 

This  time  she  remained  speechless,  but  all  those 
ill-defined  fears  which  had  gathered  in  his  heart 
seemed  suddenly  to  come  to  a  head.  Her  appear- 
ance had  changed  curiously  during  the  last  hour. 
There  was  a  hunted,  almost  a  desperate  gleam  in  her 
eyes,  a  drawn  look  about  her  mouth  as  she  sat  look- 
ing at  him. 

"How  do  you  know  this?"  she  asked. 

"The  Colonel  of  the  regiment  stationed  here  has 


6i  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

just  arrived.  He  is  down  in  the  garage  now  with 
my  father." 

*'Shot !"  she  rauraiured.     *'Mon  Dieu!" 

"I  want  to  help  you,"  he  continued. 

Her  eyes  questioned  him  almost  fiercely. 

"You  are  sure?" 

**I  am  sure." 

"You  know  what  it  means?" 

"I  do." 

**PIow  did  you  guess  the  truth?" 

"I  remembered  your  mouth,"  he  told  her.  "I  saw 
your  car  last  night,  and  I  traced  it  up  the  avenue 
this  morning." 

"A  mouth  isn't  much  to  go  by,"  she  observed,  with 
a  very  wan  smile. 

"It  happens  to  be  your  mouth,"  he  replied. 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and  stood  for  a  moment  as 
though  listening.  Then  she  thrust  her  hand  down 
into  the  bosom  of  her  gown  and  produced  a  small 
roll  of  paper  wrapped  in  a  sheet  of  oilskin.  He  took 
it  from  her  at  once  and  slipped  it  into  the  breast 
pocket  of  his  coat. 

"You  understand  what  you  are  doing?"  she  per- 
sisted. 

"Perfectly,**  he  replied. 

She  crossed  the  room  towards  the  hearthrug  and 
stood  there  for  a  moment,  leaning  against  the  mantel- 
piece. 

"Is  there  anything  else  I  can  do?"  he  asked. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  66 

She  turned  around.  There  was  a  wonderful 
change  in  her  face. 

"No  one  saw  me,"  she  said.  "I  do  not  think  that 
there  is  any  one  but  you  who  could  positively  identify 
the  car.  Neither  my  aunt  nor  the  maid  who  is 
with  us  has  any  idea  that  I  left  my  room  last  night." 

"Your  clothes?" 

"Absolutely  destroyed,"  she  assured  him  with  a 
smile.  "Some  day  I  hope  I'll  find  courage  to  ask 
you  whether  you  thought  them  becoming." 

"Some  day,"  he  retorted,  a  little  grimly,  "I  am 
going  to  have  a  very  serious  talk  with  you,  Miss 
Abbeway." 

"Shall  you  be  very  stem.'"' 

He  made  no  response  to  her  lighter  mood.  The 
appeal  in  her  eyes  left  him  colder  than  ever. 

"I  wish  to  save  your  life,"  he  declared,  "and  I 
mean  to  do  it.  At  the  same  time,  I  cannot  forget 
your  crime  or  my  complicity  in  it." 

"If  you  feel  like  that,  then,"  she  said  a  little 
defiantly,  "tell  the  truth.  I  knew  the  risk  I  was  run- 
ning. I  am  not  afraid,  even  now.  You  can  give  me 
back  those  papers,  if  you  like.  I  can  assure  you 
that  the  person  on  whom  they  are  found  will  un- 
doubtedly be  shot." 

"Then  I  shall  certainly  retain  possession  of  them," 
he  decided. 

"You  are  very  chivalrous,  sir,"  she  ventured,  smil- 
ing. 


66  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"I  happen  to  be  only  selfish,"  Julian  replied.  "I 
even  despise  myself  for  what  I  am  doing.  I  am  turn- 
ing traitor  myself,  simply  because  I  could  not  bear 
the  thought  of  what  might  happen  to  you  if  you 
were  discovered." 

"You  like  me,  then,  a  little,  Mr.  Orden.?"  she 
asked. 

"Twenty-four  hours  ago,"  he  sighed,  "I  had  hoped 
to  answer  that  question  before  it  was  asked." 

"This  is  very  tantalising,"  she  murmured.  "You 
are  going  to  save  my  life,  then,  and  afterwards 
treat  me  as  though  I  were  a  leper.''" 

"I  shall  hope,"  he  said,  "that  you  may  have  ex- 
planations— that  I  may  find — " 

She  held  out  her  hand  and  stopped  him.  Once 
more,  for  a  moment,  her  eyes  were  distended,  her 
form  was  tense.     She  was  listening  intently. 

"There  is  some  one  coming,"  she  whispered — "two 
or  three  men,  I  think.  What  fools  we  have  been ! 
We  ought  to  have  decided — about  the  car." 

Her  terth  came  together  for  a  moment.  It  was 
her  supreme  effort  at  self-control.  Then  she  laughed 
almost  naturally,  lit  a  cigarette,  and  seated  herself 
upon  the  arm  of  an  easy-chair. 

"You  are  interfering  shockingly  with  my  corre- 
spondence," she  declared,  "and  I  am  sure  that  they 
want  you  for  bridge.  Here  comes  Lord  Maltenby 
to  tell  you  so,"  she  added,  glancing  towards  the 
door. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  67 

Lord  Maltenby  was  very  pompous,  very  stiff,  and 
yet  apologetic.  He  considered  the  whole  affair  in 
which  he  had  become  involved  ridiculous. 

"Miss  Abbeway,"  he  said,  "I  beg  to  present  to  you 
Colonel  Henderson.  An  unfortunate  occurrence 
took  place  here  last  night,  which  it  has  become  the 
duty  of — er — Colonel  Henderson  to  clear  up.  He 
wishes  to  ask  you  a  question  concerning — er — a  mo- 
tor-car." 

Colonel  Henderson  frowned.  He  stepped  a  little 
forward  with  the  air  of  wishing  to  exclude  the  Earl 
from  further  speech. 

"May  I  ask,  Miss  Abbeway,"  he  began,  "whether 
the  small  coupe  car,  standing  about  a  hundred  yards 
down  the  back  avenue,  is  yours.?" 

"It  is,"  she  assented,  with  a  little  sigh.  "It  won't 
go." 

"It  won't  go  ?"  the  Colonel  repeated. 

"I  thought  you  might  know  something  about 
cars,"  she  explained.  "They  tell  me  that  two  of 
the  sparking  plugs  are  cracked.  I  am  thinking  of 
replacing  them  to-morrow  morning,  if  I  can  get  Mr. 
Orden  to  help  me." 

"How  long  has  the  car  been  there  in  its  present 
condition,  then?"  the  Colonel  enquired. 

"Since  about  five  o'clock  yesterday  afternoon," 
she  replied. 

"You  don't  think  it  possible  that  it  could  have 
been  out  on  the  road  anywhere  last  night,  then?" 


68  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"Out  on  the  road !"  she  laughed.  "Why,  I 
couldn't  get  it  up  to  the  garage !  You  go  and  look 
at  it,  Colonel,  if  you  understand  cars.  Fellowes,  the 
chauffeur  here,  had  a  look  at  the  plugs  when  I 
brought  it  in,  and  you'll  find  that  they  haven't  been 
touched." 

"I  trust,"  the  Earl  intervened,  "that  my  chauf- 
feur offered  to  do  what  was  necessary.'"' 

"Certainly  he  did,  Lord  Maltenby,"  she  assured 
him.  "I  am  trying  hard  to  be  my  own  mechanic, 
though,  and  I  have  set  my  mind  on  changing  those 
plugs  myself  to-morrow  morning." 

"You  are  your  own  chauffeur,  then.  Miss  Abbe- 
way.^"  her  inquisitor  asked. 

"Absolutely." 

"You  can  change  a  wheel,  perhaps.''" 

"Theoretically  I  can,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  I 
have  never  had  to  do  it.'" 

"Your  tyres,"  Colonel  Henderson  continued,  "are 
of  somewhat  unusual  pattern." 

"They  are  Russian,"  she  told  him.  "I  bought 
them  for  that  reason.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they 
are  very  good  tyres." 

"Miss  Abbeway,"  the  Colonel  said,  "I  don't  know 
whether  you  are  aware  that  my  police  are  in  search 
of  a  spy  who  is  reported  to  have  escaped  from  the 
marshes  last  night  in  a  small  motor-car  which  was 
left  at  a  certain  spot  in  the  Salthouse  road.  I  do 
not  believe  that  there  are  two  tyres  such  as  yours  in 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  69 

Norfolk.  How  do  you  account  for  their  imprint 
being  clearly  visible  along  the  road  to  .a  certain  spot 
near  Salthouse?  My  police  have  taken  tracings  of 
them  this  morning." 

Catherine  remained  perfectly  speechless.,  A  slow 
smile  of  triumph  dawmed  upon  her  accuser's  lips. 
Lord  Maltenby's  eyebrows  were  upraised  as  though 
in  horror. 

"Perhaps,"  Julian  interposed,  "I  can  explain  the 
tyre  marks  upon  the  road.  Miss  Abbeway  drove 
me  down  to  Furley's  cottage,  where  I  spent  the  night, 
late  in  the  afternoon.  The  marks  were  still  there 
when  I  returned  this  morning,  because  I  noticed 
them." 

"The  same  marks  .f^"  the  Colonel  asked,  frowning. 

"Without  a  doubt  the  same  marks,"  Julian  re- 
plied. "In  one  place,  where  we  skidded  a  little,  I 
recognized  them." 

Colonel  Henderson  smiled  a  little  more  naturally. 

"I  begin  to  have  hopes,"  he  acknowledged  frankly, 
"that  I  have  been  drawn  into  another  mare's  nest. 
Nevertheless,  I  am  bound  to  ask  you  this  question. 
Miss  Abbeway.  Did  you  leave  your  room  at  all 
during  last  night.'"' 

"Not  unless  I  walked  in  my  sleep,"  she  answered, 
"but  3^ou  had  better  make  enquiries  of  my  aunt,  and 
Parkins,  our  maid.  They  sleep  one  on  either  side 
of  me." 

"You  would  not  object,"  the  Colonel  continued. 


70  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

more  cheerfully  still,  "if  my  people  thought  well  to 
have  your  things  searched?" 

"Not  in  the  least,"  Catherine  replied  coolly,  "only 
if  you  unpack  my  trunks,  I  beg  that  you  will  allow 
my  maid  to  fold  and  unfold  my  clothes." 

"I  do  not  think,"  Colonel  Henderson  said  to  Lord 
Maltenby,  "that  I  have  any  more  questions  to  ask 
Miss  Abbcway  at  present." 

*'In  which  case  we  will  return  to  the  drawing- 
room,"  the  Earl  suggested  a  little  stiffly.  "Miss 
Abbeway,  you  will,  I  trust,  accept  my  apologies  for 
our  intrusion  upon  you.  I  regret  that  any  guest 
of  mine  should  have  been  subjected  to  a  suspicion 
so  outrageous." 

Catherine  laughed  softly. 

"Not  outrageous  really,  dear  Lord  Maltenby,"  she 
said.  "I  do  not  quite  know  of  what  I  have  been 
suspected,  but  I  am  sure  Colonel  Henderson  would 
not  have  asked  me  these  questions  if  it  had  not  been 
his  duty." 

"If  you  had  not  been  a  guest  in  this  house.  Miss 
Abbeway,"  the  Colonel  assured  her,  with  some  dig- 
nity, "I  should  have  had  you  arrested  first  and  ques- 
tioned afterwards." 

"You  come  of  a  race  of  men.  Colonel  Henderson, 
who  win  wars,"  she  declared  graciously.  "You  know 
your  own  mind." 

"You  will  be  joining  us  presently,  I  hope?"  Lord 
Maltenby  enquired  from  the  door. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  71 

**In  a  very  few  minutes,"  she  promised. 

The  door  closed  behind  tliem.  Catherine  waited 
for  a  moment,  then  she  sank  a  little  hysterically  into 
a  chair. 

"I  cannot  avoid  a  touch  of  melodrama,  you  see," 
she  confessed.  "It  goes  with  my  character  and 
nationality.  But  seriously,  now  that  that  is  over, 
I  do  not  consider  myself  in  the  slightest  danger. 
The  poor  fellow  who  was  shot  this  morning  belongs 
to  a  different  order  of  people.  He  has  been  a  spy 
over  here  since  the  beginning  of  the  war." 

"And  what  are  you?"  he  asked  bluntly. 

She  laughed  up  in  his  face. 

"A  quite  attractive  young  woman,"  she  declared, 
— "at  least  I  feel  sure  you  will  think  so  when  you 
know  me  better." 


CHAPTER  VII 

It  was  about  half-past  ten  on  the  following  morn- 
ing when  Julian,  obej'ing  a  stentorian  invitation  to 
enter,  walked  Into  Miles  Furley's  sitting  room.  Fur- 
ley  was  stretched  upon  the  couch,  smoking  a  pipe  and 
reading  the  paper. 

"Good  man!"  was  his  hearty  greeting.  "I  hoped 
you'd  look  me  up  this  morning." 

Julian  dragged  up  the  other  dilapidated-looking 
easy-chair  to  the  log  fire  and  commenced  to  fill  his 
pipe  from  the  open  jar. 

"How's  the  leg?"  he  enquired. 

"Pretty  nearly  all  right  again,"  Furley  answered 
cheerfully.  "Seems  to  me  I  was  frightened  before 
I  was  hurt.     What  about  your  head?" 

"No  inconvenience  at  all,"  Julian  declared,  stretch- 
ing himself  out.  "I  suppose  I  must  have  a  pretty 
tough  skull." 

"Any  news?" 

"News  enough,  of  a  sort,  if  you  haven't  heard  it. 
They  caught  the  man  who  sandbagged  me,  and  who 
I  presume  sawed  your  plank  through,  and  shot  him 
last  night." 

"The  devil  they  did !"  Furley  exclaimed,  taking  his 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  73 

pipe  from  his  mouth.  "Shot  him?  Who  the  mis- 
chief was  he,  then?" 

"It  appears,"  Julian  replied,  "that  he  was  a  Ger- 
man hairdresser,  who  escaped  from  an  internment 
camp  two  years  ago  and  has  been  at  large  ever  since, 
keeping  in  touch,  somehow  or  other,  with  his  friends 
on  the  other  side.  He  must  have  known  the  game 
was  up  as  soon  as  he  was  caught.  He  didn't  even 
attempt  any  defence." 

"Shot,  eh?"  Furley  repeated,  relighting  his  pipe. 
"Serves  him  damned  well  right !" 

"You  think  so,  do  you  ?"  Julian  remarked  pen- 
sively. 

"Who  wouldn't?  I  hate  espionage.  So  does 
every  Englishman.  That's  why  we  are  such  duf- 
fers at  the  game,  I  suppose." 

Julian  watched  his  friend  with  a  slight  frown. 

"How  in  thunder  did  you  get  mixed  up  with  this 
affair,  Furley  ?"  he  asked  quietly. 

Furley's  bewilderment  was  too  natural  to  be  as- 
sumed. He  removed  his  pipe  from  his  teeth  and 
stared  at  his  friend. 

"What  the  devil  are  you  driving  at,  Julian?"  he 
demanded.  "I  can  assure  you  that  I  went  out,  the 
night  before  last,  simply  to  make  one  of  the  rounds 
which  falls  to  my  lot  when  I  am  in  this  part  of  the 
world  and  nominated  for  duty.  There  are  eleven 
of  us  between  here  and  Sheringham,  special  con- 
stables of  a  humble  branch  of  the  secret  service,  if 


74  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

you  like  to  put  it  so.  We  are  a  well-known  insti- 
tution amongst  the  initiated.  I've  plodded  these 
marshes  sometimes  from  midnight  till  daybreak,  and 
although  one's  always  hearing  rumours,  until  last 
night  I  have  never  seen  or  heard  of  a  single  unusual 
incident." 

"You  had  no  idea,  then,"  Julian  persisted,  "what 
it  was  that  you  were  on  the  look-out  for  the  night 
before  last?  You  had  no  idea,  say,  from  any  source 
whatever,  that  there  was  going  to  be  an  attempt  on 
the  part  of  the  enemy  to  communicate  with  friends 
on  this  side?" 

"Good  God,  no !  Even  to  have  known  it  would 
have  been  treason." 

"You  admit  that?" 

Furley  drew  himself  stiffly  up  in  his  chair.  His 
mass  of  brown  hair  seemed  more  unkempt  than  usual, 
his  hard  face  sterner  than  ever  by  reason  of  its  dis- 
figuring frown. 

"What  the  hell  do  you  mean,  Julian?" 

"I  mean,"  Julian  replied,  "that  I  have  reason  to 
suspect  you,  Furley,  of  holding  or  attempting  to 
hold  secret  communication  with  an  enemy  coun- 
try." 

The  pipestem  which  he  was  holding  snapped  in 
Furley's  fingers.     His  eyes  were  filled  with  fury. 

"Damn  you,  Julian !"  he  exclaimed.  "If  I  could 
stand  on  two  legs,  I'd  break  your  head.  How  dare 
you  come  here  and  talk  such  rubbish !" 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  75 

"Isn't  there  some  truth  in  what  I  have  just  said?" 
Julian  asked  sternly. 

"Not  a  word." 

Julian  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Furley  was 
sitting  upright  upon  the  sofa,  his  keen  eyes  aglint 
with  anger. 

"I  am  waiting  for  an  explanation,  Julian,"  he  an- 
nounced. 

"You  shall  have  it,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "The 
companion  of  the  man  who  was  shot,  for  whom  the 
police  are  searching  at  this  moment,  is  a  guest  in 
my  father's  house.  I  have  had  to  go  to  the  extent 
of  lying  to  save  her  from  detection." 

"Her?"  Furley  gasped. 

"Yes !  The  youth  in  fisherman's  oilskins,  into 
whose  hands  that  message  passed  last  night,  is  Miss 
Catherine  Abbeway.  The  young  lady  has  referred 
me  to  you  for  some  explanation  as  to  its  being  in  her 
possession." 

Furley  remained  absolutely  speechless  for  several 
moments.  His  first  expression  was  one  of  dazed  be- 
wilderment. Then  the  light  broke  in  upon  him. 
He  began  to  understand.  When  he  spoke,  all  the 
vigour  had  left  his  tone. 

"You'll  have  to  let  me  think  about  this  for  a  mo- 
ment, Julian,"  he  said. 

"Take  your  own  time.  I  only  want  an  explana- 
tion." 

Furley   recovered   himself   slowly.     He   stretched 


76  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

out  his  hand  towards  the  pipe  rack,  filled  another 
pipe  and  lit  it.     Then  he  began. 

"Julian,"  he  said,  "every  word  that  I  have  spoken 
to  you  about  the  night  before  last  is  the  truth. 
There  is  a  further  confession,  however,  which  under 
the  circumstances  I  have  to  make.  I  belong  to  a 
body  of  men  who  are  in  touch  with  a  similar  associa- 
tion in  Germany,  but  I  have  no  share  in  any  of  the 
practical  doings — the  machinerj^,  I  might  call  it — 
of  our  organisation.  I  have  known  that  communica? 
tions  have  passed  back  and  forth,  but  I  imagined 
that  this  was  done  through  neutral  countries.  I 
went  out  the  night  before  last  as  an  ordinary  British 
citizen,  to  do  my  duty.  I  had  not  the  faintest  idea 
that  there  was  to  be  any  attempt  to  land  a  com- 
munication here,  referring  to  the  matters  in  which 
I  am  interested.  I  should  imagine  that  the  proof 
-of  my  words  lies  in  the  fact  that  efforts  were  made 
to  prevent  my  reaching  my  beat,  and  that  you,  my 
substitute,  whom  I  deliberately  sent  to  take  my  place, 
were  attacked." 

"I  accept  your  word  so  far,"  Julian  said. 
"Please  go  on." 

"I  am  an  Englishman  and  a  patriot,"  Furley  con- 
tinued, "just  as  much  as  you  are,  although  you  are 
a  son  of  the  Earl  of  Maltenby,  and  you  fought  in 
the  war.  You  must  listen  to  me  without  prejudice. 
There  are  thoughtful  men  in  England,  patriots  to 
the  backbone,  trying  to  grope  their  way  to  the  truth 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  77 

about  this  bloody  sacrifice.  There  are  thoughtful 
men  in  Germany  on  the  same  tack.  If,  for  the  bet- 
terment of  the  world,  we  should  seek  to  come  into 
touch  with  one  another,  I  do  not  consider  that  trea- 
son, or  communicating  with  an  enemy  country  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  word." 

"I  see,"  Julian  muttered.  "What  you  are  pre- 
pared to  plead  guilty  to  is  holding  communication 
with  members  of  the  Labour  and  Socialist  Party  in 
Germany." 

"I  plead  guilty  to  nothing,"  Furley  answered, 
with  a  touch  of  his  old  fierceness.  "Don't  talk  like 
your  father  and  his  class,  Julian.  Get  away  from 
it.  Be  yourself.  Your  Ministers  can't  end  the  war. 
Your  Government  can't.  They  opened  their  mouth 
too  wide  at  first.  They  made  too  many  commit- 
ments. Ask  Stenson.  He'll  tell  you  that  I'm  speak- 
ing the  truth.  So  it  goes  on,  and  day  by  day  it 
costs  the  world  a  few  hundred  or  a  few  thousand 
human  lives,  and  God  knows  how  much  of  man's 
labour  and  brains,  annihilated,  wasted,  blown  into 
the  air !  Somehow  or  other  the  war  has  got  to  stop, 
Julian.  If  the  politicians  won't  do  it,  the  people 
must." 

"The  people,"  Julian  repeated  a  little  sadly. 
"Rienzi  once  trusted  in  the  people." 

"There's  a  difference,"  Furley  protested.  "To- 
day the  people  are  all  right,  but  the  Rienzi  isn't 
here.— My  God!" 


78  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

He  broke  off  suddenly,  pursuing  another  train  of 
thought.     He  leaned  forward. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "we'll  talk  about  the  fate  of 
that  communication  later.     What  about  Miss  Abbe- 


way 


?» 


"Miss  Abbeway,"  Julian  told  him,  **was  in  im- 
minent danger  last  night  of  arrest  as  a  spy. 
Against  my  principles  and  all  my  convictions,  I 
have  done  my  best  to  protec't  her  against  the  con- 
sequences of  her  ridiculous  and  inexcusable  conduct. 
I  don't  know  anything  about  your  association,  Fur- 
ley,  but  I  consider  you  a  lot  of  rotters  to  allow  a 
girl  to  take  on  a  job  like  this." 

Furley's  eyes  flaslied  in  sympathy. 

"It  was  a  cowardly  action,  Julian,"  he  agreed. 
**I'm  hot  with  shame  when  I  think  of  it.  But  don't, 
for  heaven's  sake,  think  I  had  anything  to  do  with 
the  affair!  We  have  a  secret  service  branch  which 
arranges  for  those  things.  It's  that  skunk  Fenn 
who's  responsible.     Damn  him  !" 

"Nicholas  Fenn,  the  pacifist !"  Julian  exclaimed. 
*'So  you  take  vermin  like  that  into  your  coun- 
cils !" 

"You  can't  call  him  too  hard  a  name  for  me  at  this 
moment,"  Furley  muttered. 

"Nicholas  Fenn,"  Julian  repeated,  with  a  new  light 
in  his  eyes.  "Why,  the  cable  I  censored  was  to  him ! 
So  he's  the  arch  traitor !" 

"Nicholas  Fenn  is  in  it,"  Furlev  admitted,  "al- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  79 

though  I  deny  that  there's  any  treason  whatever  in 
the  affair." 

"Don't  talk  nonsense !"  Julian  replied.  "What 
about  your  German  hairdresser  who  was  shot  this 
morning?" 

"It  was  a  mistake  to  make  use  of  him,"  Furley 
confessed.  "Fenn  has  deceived  us  all  as  to  the 
method  of  our  communications.  But  listen,  Julian. 
You'll  be  able  to  get  Miss  Abbeway  out  of  this?" 

"If  I  don't,"  Julian  replied,  "I  shall  be  in  it  my- 
self, for  I've  lied  myself  black  in  the  face  already." 

"You're  a  man,  for  all  the  starch  in  you,  Julian," 
Furley  declared.  "If  anything  were  to  happen  to 
that  girl,  I'd  wring  Fenn's  neck." 

"I  think  she's  safe  for  the  present,"  Julian  pro- 
nounced. "You  see,  she  isn't  in  possession  of  the  in- 
criminating document.  I  took  it  from  her  when  she 
was  in  danger  of  arrest." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?" 

"You  can't  have  much  doubt  about  that,"  was  the 
composed  reply.  "I  shall  go  to  town  to-morrow  and 
hand  it  over  to  the  proper  authorities." 

Julian  rose  to  his  feet  as  he  spoke.  Furley  looked 
at  him  helplessly. 

"Plow  in  heaven's  name,  man,"  he  groaned,  "shall 
I  be  able  to  make  you  see  the  truth !" 

A  touch  of  the  winter  sunlight  was  upon  Julian's 
face  which,  curiously  enough,  at  that  moment  re- 
sembled his  father's  in  its  cold,  patrician  lines.     The 


80  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

mention  of  Nicholas  Fenn's  name  seemed  to  have 
transformed  him, 

"If  I  were  3'ou,  Furley,"  he  advised,  "for  the  sake 
of  our  friendship,  I  wouldn't  try.  There  is  no  con- 
sideration in  the  world  which  would  alter  my  inten- 
tions." 

There  was  the  sound  of  the  lifting  of  the  outer 
latch,  a  knock  at  the  door.  The  incoming  visitors 
stood  upon  no  ceremony.  Mr.  Stenson  and  Cath- 
erine showed  themselves  upon  the  threshold. 

Mr.  Stenson  waved  aside  all  ceremony  and  at  once 
checked  Furley's  attempt  to  rise  to  his  feet. 

"Pray  don't  get  up,  Furley,"  he  begged,  shaking 
hands  with  him.  "I  hope  you'll  forgive  such  an  in- 
formal visit.  I  met  Miss  Abbeway  on  m}'  way  down 
to  the  sea,  and  when  she  told  me  that  she  was  coming 
to  call  on  you,  I  asked  leave  to  accompany  her." 

"You're  very  welcome,  sir,"  was  the  cordial  re- 
sponse.    "It's  an  honour  which  I  scarcely  expected." 

Julian  found  chairs  for  every  one,  and  Mr.  Sten- 
son, recognising  intuitively  a  certain  state  of  tension, 
continued  his  good-humoured  remarks. 

**Miss  Abbeway  and  I,"  he  said,  "have  been  having 
a  most  interesting  conversation,  or  rather  argument. 
I  find  thi'tt  she  is  entirely  of  your  way  of  thinking, 
Furley.  You  both  belong  to  the  order  of  what  I 
call  puffball  politicians." 

Catherine  laughed  heartily  at  the  simile. 

"Mr.  Stenson  is  a  glaring  example,"  she  pointed 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  81 

out,  "of  those  who  do  not  know  their  own  friends. 
Mr.  Furley  and  I  both  believe  ihat  some  time  or  other 
our  views  will  appeal  to  the  whole  of  the  intellectual 
and  unselfish  world." 

"It's  a  terrible  job  to  get  people  to  think,"  Furley 
obsen'ed.  "They  are  nearly  always  busy  doing 
something  else." 

"And  these  aristocrats !"  Catherine  continued, 
smiling  at  Julian.  "You  spoil  them  so  in  England, 
you  know.  Eton  and  Oxford  are  simply  terrible  in 
their  narrowing  effect  upon  your  young  men.  It's 
like  putting  your  raw  material  into  a  sausage  ma- 
chine." 

"Miss  Abbeway  is  very  severe  this  morning," 
Stcnson  declared,  with  unabated  good  humour. 
"She  has  been  attacking  my  policy  and  my  principles 
during  the  whole  of  our  walk.  Bad  luck  about  your 
accident,  Furley.  I  suppose  we  should  have  met 
whilst  I  am  down  here,  if  you  hadn't  developed  too 
adventurous  a  spirit." 

Furley  glanced  at  Julian  and  smiled. 

"I  am  not  so  sure  about  that,  sir,"  he  said. 
"Your  host  doesn't  approve  of  me  very  much." 

"Do  political  prejudices  exist  so  far  from  their 
home?"  Mr.  Stenson  asked. 

"I  am  afraid  my  father  is  rather  old-fashioned," 
Julian  confessed. 

"You  are  all  old-fashioned — and  stiff  ^vith  preju- 
dice," Furley  declared.     "Even  Orden,"  he  went  on, 


82  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

turning  to  Catherine,  "only  tolerates  me  because  we 
ate  dinners  off  the  same  board  when  we  were  both 
making  up  our  minds  to  be  Lord  High  Chan- 
cellor." 

"Our  friend  Furley,"  Julian  confided,  as  he  leaned 
across  the  table  and  took  a  cigarette,  "has  no  tact 
and  many  prejudices.  He  does  write  such  rubbish 
about  the  aristocracy.  I  remember  an  article  of  his 
not  very  long  ago,  entitled  'Out  with  our  Peers!' 
It's  all  very  well  for  a  younger  son  like  me  to  take  it 
lying  down,  but  you  could  scarcely  expect  my  father 
to  approve.  Besides,  I  believe  the  fellow's  a 
renegade.  I  have  an  idea  that  he  was  born  in  the 
narrower  circles  himself." 

"That's  w^here  you're  wrong,  then,"  Furley 
grunted  with  satisfaction.  "My  father  was  a  boot 
manufacturer  in  a  country  village  of  Leicestershire. 
I  went  in  for  the  Bar  because  he  left  me  pots  of 
money,  most  of  which,  by  the  bye,  I  seem  to  have 
dissipated." 

"Chiefly  in  Utopian  schemes  for  the  betterment 
of  his  betters,"  Julian  observed  drily. 

"I  certainly  had  an  idea,"  Furley  confessed,  "of 
an  asylum  for  incapable  younger  sons." 

"I  call  a  truce,"  Julian  proposed.  "It  isn't  polite 
to  spar  before  Miss  Abbeway." 

"To  me,"  Mr.  Stenson  declared,  "this  is  a  ver- 
itable temple  of  peace.  I  arrived  here  literally  on 
all  fours.     Miss  Abbeway  has  proved  to  me  quite 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  83 

conclusively  that  as  a  democratic  leader  I  have  missed 
my  vocation." 

She  looked  at  him  reproachfully.  Nevertheless, 
his  words  seemed  to  have  brought  back  to  her  mind 
the  thrill  of  their  brief  but  stimulating  conversation. 
A  flash  of  genuine  earnestness  transformed  her  face, 
just  as  a  gleam  of  wintry'  sunshine,  which  had  found 
its  way  in  through  the  open  window,  seemed  to  dis- 
cover threads  of  gold  in  her  tightly  braided  and 
luxuriant  brown  hair.  Her  eyes  filled  with  an  al- 
most inspired  light. 

"Mr.  Stenson  is  scarcely  fair  to  me,"  she  com- 
plained. "I  did  not  presume  to  criticise  his  states- 
manship, only  there  are  some  things  here  which  seem 
pitiful.  England  should  be  the  ideal  democracy  of 
the  world.  Your  laws  admit  of  it,  your  Government 
admits  of  it.  Neither  birth  nor  money  are  in- 
dispensable to  success.  The  way  is  open  for  the 
working  man  to  pass  even  to  the  Cabinet.  And  j'ou 
are  nothing  of  the  sort.  The  cause  of  the  people 
is  not  in  any  country  so  shamefully  and  badly  repre- 
sented. You  have  a  bourgeoisie  which  maintains  it- 
self in  almost  feudal  luxury  by  means  of  the  labour 
which  it  employs,  and  that  labour  is  content  to 
squeak  and  open  its  mouth  for  worms,  when  it  should 
have  the  finest  fruits  of  the  world.  And  all  this  is 
for  want  of  leadership.  Up  you  come — you  David 
Sands,  you  Phineas  Crosses,  you  Nicholas  Fenns, 
you  Thomas  Evanses.     You  each  think  that  you  rep- 


84  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

resent  Labour,  but  you  don't.  You  represent  trade 
— the  workers  at  one  trade.  How  they  laugh  at  you, 
the  men  who  like  to  keep  the  government  of  this 
country  in  their  own  possession !  They  stretch  down 
a  hand  to  the  one  who  has  climbed  the  highest,  they 
pull  him  up  into  the  Government,  and  after  that 
Labour  is  well  quit  of  him.  He  has  found  his  place 
with  the  gods.  Perhaps  they  will  make  him  a  *Sir' 
and  his  wife  a  'Lady,'  but  for  him  it  is  all  over  with 
the  Cause.  And  so  another  ten  years  is  wasted, 
while  another  man  grows  up  to  take  his  place.'* 

"She's  right  enough,"  Furley  confessed  gloomily. 
"There  is  something  about  the  atmosphere  of  the 
inner  life  of  politics  which  has  proved  fatal  to  every 
Labour  man  who  has  ever  climbed.  Paul  Fiske 
wrote  the  same  thing  only  a  few  weeks  ago.  He 
thought  that  it  was  the  social  atmosphere  which  we 
still  preserve  around  our  politics.  We  no  sooner 
catch  a  clever  man,  born  of  the  people,  than  we  dress 
him  up  like  a  mummy  and  put  him  down  at  dinner 
parties  and  garden  parties,  to  do  things  he's  not  ac- 
customed to,  and  expect  hrm  to  hold  his  own  amongst 
people  who  are  not  his  people.  There  is  something 
poisonous  about  it." 

"Aren't  you  all  rather  assuming,"  Stenson  sug- 
gested drily,  "that  the  Labour  Party  is  the  only 
party  in  politics  worth  considering?" 

"If  they  knew  their  own  strength,"  Catherine  de- 
clared,   "they    would    be    the    predominant    party. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  85 

Should  you  like  to  go  to  the  polls  to-day  and  fight 
for  your  seats  against  themP' 

"Heaven  forbid!"  Mr.  Stenson  exclaimed.  "But 
then  we've  made  up  our  mind  to  one  thing — no  gen- 
eral election  during  the  war.  Afterwards,  I 
shouldn't  be  at  all  surprised  if  Unionists  and  Lib- 
erals and  even  Radicals  didn't  amalgamate  and  make 
one  party." 

"To  fight  Labour,"  Furley  said  grimly. 

"To  keep  England  great,"  Mr.  Stenson  replied. 
"You  must  remember  that  so  far  as  any  scheme  or 
program  which  the  Labour  Party  has  yet  disclosed, 
in  this  country  or  any  other,  they  are  preeminently 
selfish.  England  has  mighty  interests  across  the 
seas.  A  parish-council  form  of  government  would 
very  soon  bring  disaster." 

Julian  glanced  at  the  clock  and  rose  to  his  feet. 

"I  don't  want  to  hurry  any  one,"  he  said,  "but  my 
father  is  rather  a  martinet  about  luncheon." 

They  all  rose.     ]\Ir.  Stenson  turned  to  Julian. 

**Will  you  go  on  with  Miss  Abbeway.'"*  he  begged. 
"I  will  catch  up  with  you  on  the  marshes.  I  want  to 
have  just  a  word  with  Furley." 

Julian  and  his  companion  crossed  the  country 
road  and  passed  througli  the  gate  opposite  on  to 
the  rude  track  which  led  down  almost  to  the  sea. 

"You  are  very  interested  in  English  labour  ques- 
tions, Miss  Abbewa}^"  he  remarked,  "considering 
that  you  are  only  half  an  Englishwoman." 


86  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"It  isn't  only  the  English  labouring  classes  in 
whom  I  am  interested,"  she  replied  impatiently.  "It 
is  the  cause  of  the  people  throughout  the  whole  of 
the  world  which  in  my  small  way  I  preach." 

"Your  own  country,"  he  continued,  a  little  dif- 
fidently, "is  scarcely  a  good  advertisement  for  the 
cause  of  social  reform." 

Her  tone  trembled  with  indignation  as  she 
answered   him. 

"My  own  country,"  she  said,  "has  suffered  for  so 
many  centuries  from  such  terrible  oppression  that 
the  reaction  was  bound,  in  its  first  stages,  to  pro- 
duce nothing  but  chaos.  Automatically,  all  that 
seems  to  you  unreasonable,  wicked — even,  in  a  way, 
horrible — will  in  the  course  of  time  disappear. 
Russia  will  find  herself.  In  twenty  years'  time  her 
democracy  will  have  solved  the  great  problem,  and 
Russia  be  the  foremost  republic  of  the  world." 

"Meanwhile,"  he  remarked,  "she  is  letting  us  down 
pretty  badly." 

"But  you  are  selfish,  you  English !"  she  exclaimed. 
"You  see  one  of  the  greatest  nations  in  the  world 
going  through  its  hour  of  agony,  and  you  think  noth- 
ing but  how  you  yourselves  will  be  affected !  Every 
thinking  person  in  Russia  regrets  that  this  thing 
should  have  come  to  pass  at  such  a  time.  Yet  it  is 
best  for  you  English  to  look  the  truth  in  the  face. 
It  wasn't  the  Russian  people  who  were  pledged  to 
you,  with  whom  you  were  bound  in  alliance.     It  was 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  87 

that  accursed  trick  all  European  politicians  have  of 
making  secret  treaties  and  secret  understandings, 
building  up  buffer  States,  trying  to  whittle  away  a 
piece  of  the  map  for  yourselves,  trying  all  the  time 
to  be  dishonest  under  the  shadow  of  what  is  called 
diplomacy.  That  is  what  brought  the  war  about. 
It  was  never  the  will  of  the  people.  It  was  the  Hoh- 
enzollerns  and  the  Romanoffs,  the  firebrands  of  the 
French  Cabinet,  and  your  own  clumsy,  thick-headed 
efforts  to  get  the  best  of  everybody  and  yet  keep 
your  Nonconformist  conscience.  The  people  did 
not  make  this  war,  but  it  is  the  people  who  are  going 
to  end  it." 

They  walked  in  silence  for  some  minutes,  he  ap- 
parently pondering  over  her  last  words,  she  with 
the  cloud  passing  from  her  face  as,  with  her  head 
a  little  thrown  back  and  her  eyes  half-closed,  she 
sniffed  the  strong,  salty  air  with  an  almost  voluptu- 
ous expression  of  content.  She  was  perfectly 
dressed  for  the  country,  from  her  square-toed  shoes, 
which  still  seemed  to  maintain  some  distinction  of 
shape,  the  perfectly  tailored  coat  and  skirt,  to  the 
smart  little  felt  hat  with  its  single  quiU.  She  walked 
with  the  free  grace  of  an  athlete,  unembarrassed  with 
the  difficulties  of  the  way  or  the  gusts  which  swept 
across  the  marshy  places,  yet  not  even  the  strength- 
ening breeze,  which  as  they  reached  the  sea  line  be- 
came almost  a  gale,  seemed  to  have  power  to  bring- 
even  the  faintest  flush  of  colour  to  her  cheeks.     They 


88  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

reached  the  long  headland  and  stood  looking  out  at 
the  sea  before  she  spoke  again. 

"You  were  very  kind  to  me  last  night,  Mr.  Orden," 
she  said,  a  little  abruptly. 

*'I  paid  a  debt,"  he  reminded  her. 

"I  suppose  there  is  something  in  that."  she  ad- 
mitted. "I  really  believe  that  that  exceedingly  un- 
pleasant person  with  whom  I  was  brought  into 
temporary  association  would  have  killed  j'ou  if  I  had 
allowed  it." 

"I  am  inclined  to  agree  with  you,"  he  assented. 
**I  saw  him  very  hazily,  but  a  more  criminal  type  of 
countenance  I  never  beheld." 

*'So  that  we  are  quits,"  she  ventured. 

"With  a  little  debt  on  my  side  still  to  be  paid." 

"Well,  there  is  no  telling  what  demands  I  may 
make  upon  our  acquaintance." 

"Acquaintance.?"  he  protested. 

"Would  you  like  to  call  it  friendship.?" 

"A  very  short  time  ago,"  he  said  deliberately, 
"even  friendship  would  not  have  satisfied  me." 

"And  now.?" 

"I  dislike  mysteries." 

"Poor  me!"  she  sighed.  "However,  you  can  rid 
yourself  of  the  shadow  of  one  as  soon  as  you  like 
after  luncheon.  It  would  be  quite  safe  now,  I  think, 
for  me  to  take  back  that  packet." 

"Yes,"  he  assented  slowly,  "I  suppose  that  it 
would." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  89 

She  looked  up  into  his  face.  Something  that  she 
saw  there  brought  her  own  delicate  eyebrows  to- 
gether in  a  slight  frown. 

"You  will  give  it  me  after  lunch?"  she  proposed. 

"I  think  not,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

"You  were  only  entrusted  with  it  for  a  time,"  she 
reminded  him,  with  ominous  calm.  "It  belongs  to 
me." 

"A  document  received  in  this  surreptitious  fash- 
ion," he  pronounced,  "is  presumably  a  treasonable 
document.  I  have  no  intention  of  returning  it  to 
you." 

She  walked  by  his  side  for  a  few  moments  in  si- 
lence. Glancing  down  into  her  face,  Julian  was 
almost  startled.  There  were  none  of  the  ordinary 
signs  of  anger  there,  but  an  intense  white  passion, 
the  control  of  which  was  obviously  costing  her  a 
prodigious  effort.  She  touched  his  fingers  with  her 
ungloved  hand  as  she  stepped  over  a  stile,  and  he 
found  them  icy  cold.  All  the  joy  of  that  unex- 
pectedly sunny  morning  seemed  to  have  passed. 

"I  am  sorry.  Miss  Abbeway,"  he  said  almost 
humbly,  "that  you  take  my  decision  so  hardly.  I 
ask  you  to  remember  that  I  am  just  an  ordinary, 
typical  Englishman,  and  that  I  have  already  lied  for 
your  sake.     Will  you  put  yourself  in  my  place.''" 

They  had  climbed  the  little  ridge  of  grass-grown 
sand  and  stood  looking  out  seaward.  Suddenly  all 
the  anger  seemed  to  pass  from  her  face.     She  lifted 


90  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

her  head,  her  soft  brown  ejes  flashed  into  his,  the 
little  curl  of  her  lips  seemed  to  transform  her  whole 
expression.  She  was  no  longer  the  gravely  minded 
prophetess  of  a  great  cause,  the  scheming  woman, 
furious  at  the  prospect  of  failure.  She  was  sud- 
denly wholly  feminine,  seductive,  a  coquette. 

"If  you  were  just  an  ordinary,  stupid,  stolid 
Englishman,"  she  whispered,  "why  did  you  risk  your 
honour  and  your  safety  for  my  sake.''  Will  you  tell 
me  that,  dear  man  of  steel?" 

Julian  leaned  even  closer  over  her.  She  was  smil- 
ing now  frankly  into  his  face,  refusing  the  warning 
of  his  burning  eyes.  Then  suddenly,  silently,  he 
held  her  to  him  and  kissed  her,  unresisting,  upon  the 
lips.  She  made  no  protest.  He  even  fancied  after- 
wards, when  he  tried  to  rebuild  in  his  mind  that  queer, 
passionate  interlude,  that  her  lips  had  returned  what 
his  had  given.  It  was  he  who  released  her — ^not  she 
who  struggled.  "  Yet  he  understood.  He  knew  that 
this  was  a  tragedy. 

Stenson*s  voice  reached  them  from  the  other  side 
of  the  ridge. 

"Come  and  show  me  the  way  across  this  wretched 
bit  of  marsh,  Orden.  I  don't  like  these  deceptive 
green  grasses." 

"  'Pitfalls  for  the  Politician'  or  *Look  before  you 
leap'."  Julian  muttered  aimlessly.  "Quite  right  to 
avoid  that  spot,  sir.  Just  foUow  where  I  am  point- 
ing." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  91 

Stenson  made  his  laborious  way  to  their  side. 

"This  may  be  a  short  cut  back  to  the  Hall,"  he 
exclaimed,  "but  except  for  the  view  of  the  sea  and 
this  gorgeous  air,  I  think  I  should  have  preferred 
the  main  road !  Help  me  up,  Orden.  Isn't  it  some- 
where near  here  that  that  little  affair  happened  the 
other  night?" 

"This  very  spot,"  Julian  assented.  "Miss  Abbe- 
way  and  I  were  just  speaking  of  it." 

They  both  glanced  towards  her.  She  was  stand- 
ing with  her  back  to  them,  looking  out  seawards. 
She  did  not  move  even  at  the  mention  of  her  name. 

"A  dreary  spot  at  night,  I  dare  say,"  the  Prime 
Minister  remarked,  without  overmuch  interest. 
"How  do  we  get  home  from  here,  Orden?  I  haven't 
forgotten  your  warning  about  luncheon,  and  this 
air  is  giving  me  a  most  lively  appetite." 

"Straight  along  the  top  of  this  ridge  for  about 
three  quarters  of  a  mile,  sir,  to  the  entrance  of 
the  harbour  there." 

"And  then?" 

"I  have  a  petrol  launch,"  Julian  explained,  "and 
I  shall  land  you  practically  in  the  dining  room  in 
another  ten  minutes." 

"Let  us  proceed,"  Mr.  Stenson  suggested  briskly. 
"What  a  queer  fellow  Miles  Furley  is !  Quite  a 
friend  of  yours,  isn't  he,  Miss  Abbeway.?" 

"I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  him  lately,"  she 
answered,  walking  on  and  making  room  for  Stenson 


9«  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

to  fall  into  step  by  her  side,  but  still  keeping  her 
face  a  little  averted.  "A  man  of  many  but  con- 
fused ideas;  a  man,  I  should  think,  who  stands  an 
evil  chance  of  muddling  his  career  away." 

"We  offered  him  a  post  in  the  Government,"  Sten- 
son  ruminated. 

"He  had  just  sense  enough  to  refuse  that,  I  sup- 
pose," she  observed,  moving  slowly  to  the  right  and 
thereby  preventing  Julian  from  taking  a  place  by 
her  side.  "Yet,"  she  went  on,  "I  find  in  him  the 
fault  of  so  many  Englishmen,  the  fault  that  prevents 
their  becoming  great  statesmen,  great  soldiers,  or 
even,"  she  added  coolly,  "successful  lovers." 

"And  what  is  that?"  Julian  demanded. 

She  remained  silent.  It  was  as  though  she  had 
heard  nothing.  She  caught  Mr.  Stenson's  arm  and 
pointed  to  a  huge  white  seagull,  drifting  down  the 
wind  above  their  heads. 

"To  think,"  she  said,  "with  that  model,  we  in- 
tellectuals have  waited  nearly  two  thousand  years 
for  the  aeroplane!" 


CHAPTER  ^nrn 

According  to  plans  made  earlier  in  the  day,  a 
small  shooting  party  left  the  Hall  immediately  after 
luncheon  and  did  not  return  until  late  in  the  after- 
noon. Jrlian,  therefore,  saw  nothing  more  of  Cath- 
erj  >"  until  she  came  into  the  drawing-room,  a  few 
minutes  before  the  announcement  of  dinner,  wearing 
a  wonderful  toilette  of  pale  blue  silk,  with  magnifi- 
cent pearls  around  her  neck  and  threaded  in  her 
Russian  headdress.  As  is  the  way  with  all  women  of 
genius,  Catherine's  complete  change  of  toilette  indi- 
cated a  parallel  change  in  her  demeanour.  Her  in- 
teresting' but  somewhat  subdued  manner  of  the 
previous  evening  seemed  to  have  vanished.  At  the 
dinner  table  she  dominated  the  conversation.  She 
displayed  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  every 
capital  of  Europe  and  with  countless  personages  of 
importance.  She  exchanged  personal  reminiscences 
with  Lord  Shervinton,  who  had  once  been  attached  to 
the  Embassy  at  Rome,  and  with  Mr.  Hannaway 
Wells,  who  had  been  first  secretary  at  Vienna.  She 
spoke  amusingly  of  Munich,  at  which  place,  it  ap- 
peared, she  had  first  studied  art,  but  dilated,  with 
all  the  artist's  fervour,  on  her  travellings  in  Spain, 
on  the  soft  yet  wonderfully  vivid  colouring  of  the 


94  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

southern  cities.  She  seemed  to  have  escaped  alto- 
gether from  the  gravity  of  which  she  had  displayed 
traces  on  the  previous  evening.  She  was  no  longer 
the  serious  young  woman  with  a  purpose.  From  the 
chrysalis  she  had  changed  into  the  butterfly,  the 
brilliant  and  cosmopolitan  young  queen  of  fashion, 
ruling  easily,  not  with  the  arrogance  of  rank,  but 
with  the  actual  gifts  of  charm  and  wit.  Julian  him- 
self derived  little  benefit  from  being  her  neighbour, 
for  the  conversation  that  evening,  from  first  to  last, 
was  general.  Even  after  she  had  left  the  room,  the 
atmosphere  which  she  had  created  seemed  to  linger 
behind  her. 

"I  have  never  rightly  understood  Miss  Abbeway," 
the  Bishop  declared.  "She  is  a  most  extraordinarily 
brilliant  young  woman." 

Lord  Shervinton  assented. 

"To-night  you  have  Catherine  Abbeway,"  he  ex- 
pounded, "as  she  might  have  been  but  for  these  queer, 
alternating  crazes  of  hers — art  and  socialism.  Her 
brain  was  developed  a  little  too  early,  and  she  was 
unfortunately,  almost  in  her  girlhood,  thrown  in 
with  a  little  clique  of  brilliant  young  Russians  who 
attained  a  great  influence  over  her.  Most  of  them 
are  in  Siberia  or  have  disappeared  by  now.  One — 
Anna  Katinski — was  brought  back  from  Tobolsk 
like  a  royal  princess  on  the  first  day  of  the  revolu- 
tion." 

"It  is  strange,"  the  Earl  pronounced  didactically, 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  95 

"that  a  young  lady  of  Miss  Abbeway's  birth  and  gifts 
should  espouse  the  cause  of  this  Labour  rabble,  a 
party  already  cursed  with  too  many  leaders." 

"A  woman,  when  she  takes  up  a  cause,"  Mr.  Han- 
naway  Wells  observed,  "always  seeks  either  for  the 
picturesque  or  for  something  which  appeals  to  the 
emotions.  So  long  as  she  doesn't  mix  with  them,  the 
cause  of  the  people  has  a  great  deal  to  recommend 
it.  One  can  use  beautiful  phrases,  can  idealise  with 
a  certain  amount  of  logic,  and  can  actually  achieve 
things." 

Julian  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  think  we  are  all  a  little  blind,"  he  remarked, 
"to  the  danger  in  which  we  stand  through  the  great 
prosperity  of  Labour  to-day." 

The  Bishop  leaned  across  the  table. 

"You  have  been  reading  Fiske  this  week." 

"Did  I  quote?"  Julian  asked  carelessly.  "I  have 
a  wretched  memory.  I  should  never  dare  to  become 
a  politician.  I  should  always  be  passing  off  other 
people's  phrases  as  my  own." 

"Fiske  is  quite  right  in  his  main  contention,"  Mr. 
Stenson  interposed.  "The  war  is  rapidly  creating 
a  new  class  of  bourgeoisie.  The  very  differences  in 
the  earning  of  skilled  labourers  will  bring  trouble 
before  long — the  miner  with  his  fifty  or  sixty  shill- 
ings, and  the  munition  worker  with  his  seven  or  eight 
pounds — men  draAvn  from  the  same  class." 

"England,"   declared   the   Earl,  indulging  in  his 


96  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

favourite  speech,  "was  never  so  contented  as  when 
wages  were  at  their  lowest." 

*'Those  days  will  never  come  again,"  Mr.  Han- 
naway  Wells  foretold  grimly.  "The  working  man 
has  tasted  blood.  He  has  begun  to  understand  his 
power.  Our  Ministers  have  been  asleep  for  a  gen- 
eration. The  first  of  these  modern  trades  unions 
should  have  been  treated  like  a  secret  society  in 
Italy.  Look  at  them  now,  and  what  they  represent ! 
Fancy  what  it  will  mean  when  they  have  all  learnt 
to  combine . — when  Labour  produces  real  leaders !" 

"Can  any  one  explain  the  German  democracy.'"* 
Lord  Shervinton  enquired. 

"The  ubiquitous  Fiske  was  trying  to  last  week  in 
one  of  4:he  Reviews,"  Mr.  Stenson  replied.  "His  ar- 
gument was  that  Germany  alone,  of  all  the  nations 
in  the  world,  possessed  an  extra  quality  or  an  extra 
sense — I  forget  which  he  called  it — the  sense  of  dis- 
cipline. It's  born  in  their  blood.  Generations  of 
military  service  are  responsible  for  it.  Discipline 
and  combination — that  might  be  their  motto.  In- 
dividual thought  has  been  drilled  into  grooves,  just 
as  all  individual  effort  is  specialised.  The  Germans 
obey  because  it  is  their  nature  to  obey.  The  only 
question  is  whether  they  will  stand  this,  the  roughest 
test  they  have  ever  had — whether  they'll  see  the  thing 
through." 

"Personally,  I  think  they  will,'*  Hannaway  Wells 
pronounced,    "but   if  I   should  be   wrong — if  they 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  97 

shouldn't — the  French  Revolution  would  be  a  picnic 
compared  with  the  German  one.  It  takes  a  great 
deal  to  drive  a  national  idea  out  of  the  German  mind, 
but  if  ever  they  should  understand  precisely  and  ex- 
actly how  they  have  been  duped  for  the  glorifica- 
tion of  their  masters — well,  I  should  pity  the 
junkers." 

"Do  your  essays  in  journalism,"  the  Bishop  asked 
politely,  "ever  lead  you  to  touch  upon  Labour  sub- 
jects, Julian?" 

"Once  or  tmce,  in  a  very  mild  way,"  was  the  some- 
what diffident  reply. 

"I  had  an  interesting  talk  with  Furley  this  morn- 
ing," the  Prime  Minister  observed.  "He  tells  me 
that  they  are  thinking  of  making  an  appeal  to  this 
man  Paul  Fiske  to  declare  himself.  They  want  a 
leader — they  want  one  very  badly — and  thank  heav- 
ens they  don't  know  where  to  look  for  him !" 

"But  surely,"  Julian  protested,  "they  don't  expect 
necessarily  to  find  a  leader  of  men  in  an  anonymous 
contributor  to  the  Reviews?  Fiske,  when  they  have 
found  him,  may  be  a  septuagenarian,  or  a  man  of 
academic  turn  of  mind,  who  never  leaves  his  study. 
*Paul  Fiske'  may  even  be  the  pseudonym  of  a 
woman." 

The  Earl  rose  from  his  place. 

"This  afternoon,"  he  announced,  "I  read  the  latest 
article  of  this  Paul  Fiske.  In  my  opinion  he  is  an 
exceedingly  mischievous  person,  without  the  slightest 


98  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

comprehension  of  the  forces  which  really  count  in 
government." 

The  Bishop's  eyes  twinkled  as  he  left  the  room 
with  his  hand  on  his  godson's  arm. 

"It  would  he  interesting,"  he  whispered,  "to  hear 
this  man  Fiske's  opinion  of  your  father's  last  speech 
in  the  House  of  Lords  upon  land  interests!" 

It  was  not  until  the  close  of  a  particularly  un- 
satisfactory evening  of  uninspiring  bridge  that 
Julian  saw  anything  more  of  Catherine.  She  came 
in  from  the  picture  gallery,  breathless,  followed  by 
four  or  five  of  the  young  soldiers,  to  whom  she  had 
been  showing  the  steps  of  a  new  dance,  and,  turning 
to  Julian  with  an  impulsiveness  which  surprised  him, 
laid  her  fingers  imperatively  upon  his  arm. 

"Take  me  somewhere,  please,  where  we  can  sit 
down  and  talk,"  she  begged,  **and  give  me  something 
to  drink." 

He  led  the  way  into  the  billiard  room  and  rang 
the  bell. 

"You  have  been  overtiring  yourself,"  he  said,  look- 
ing down  at  her  curiously. 

"Have  I.'"'  she  answered.  "I  don't  think  so.  I 
used  to  dance  all  through  the  night  in  Paris  and 
Rome,  a  few  years  ago.  These  3'oung  men  are  so 
clumsy,  though — and  I  think   that  I  am  nervous." 

She  lay  back  in  her  chair  and  half  closed  her  e^^es. 
A  servant  brought  in  the  Evian  water  for  which  she 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  99 

had  asked  and  a  whisky  and  soda  for  Julian.  She 
drank  thirstily  and  seemed  in  a  few  moments  to  have 
overcome  her  fatigue.  She  turned  to  her  companion 
with  an  air  of  determination. 

"I  must  speak  to  you  about  that  packet,  Mr. 
Orden,"  she  insisted. 

"Again?" 

*'I  cannot  help  it.  You  forget  that  with  me  it  is 
a  matter  of  life  or  death.  You  must  realise  that 
you  were  only  entrusted  with  it.  You  are  a  man  of 
honour.     Give  it  to  me.'* 

"I  cannot." 

"What  are  you  thinking  of  doing  with  it,  then.?" 

"I  shall  take  it  to  London  with  me  to-morrow,"  he 
replied,  "and  hand  it  over  to  a  friend  of  mine  at  the 
Foreign  Office." 

"Would  nothing  that  I  could  do  or  say,"  she  asked 
passionately,  "influence  your  decision.'"' 

"Everything  that  you  do  or  say  interests  and 
affects  me,"  he  answered  simply,  "but  so  far  as  re- 
gards this  matter,  my  dut}'  is  clear.  You  have  noth- 
ing to  fear  from  my  account  of  how  it  came  into  my 
possession.  It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  de- 
nounce you  for  what  I  fear  you  are.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  cannot  allow  you  the  fruits  of  your  enter- 
prise." 

"You  consider  me,  I  suppose,"  she  observed  after 
a  moment's  pause,  "an  enemj'  spy?" 

"You  have  proved  it,"  he  reminded  her. 


100  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"Of  Overman — my  confederate,"  she  admitted, 
"that  was  true.  Of  me  it  is  not.  I  am  an  honest 
intermediary  between  the  honest  people  of  Germany 
and  England." 

"There  can  be  no  communication  between  the  two 
countries  during  wartime,  except  through  official 
channels,"  he  declared. 

Her  eyes  flashed.  She  seemed  in  the  throes  of  one 
of  those  little  bursts  of  tempestuous  passion  which 
sometimes  assailed  her. 

"You  talk — well,  as  you  might  be  supposed  to 
talk !"  she  exclaimed,  breaking  off  with  an  effort. 
*'What  have  official  channels  done  to  end  this  war.^* 
I  am  not  here  to  help  either  side.  I  represent 
simply  humanity.  If  you  destroy  or  hand  over  to 
the  Government  that  packet,  you  will  do  your  coun- 
try an  evil  turn." 
He  shook  his  head. 

"I  am  relieved  to  hear  all  that  you  say,"  he  told 
her,  "and  I  am  heartily  glad  to  think  that  you  do 
not  look  upon  yourself  as  Overman's  associate.  On 
the  other  hand,  you  must  know  that  any  movement 
towards  peace,  except  througli  the  authorised  chan- 
nels, is  treason  to  the  country." 

"If  only  you  were  not  the  Honourable  Julian 
Ordcn,  the  son  of  an  English  peer !"  she  groaned. 
"If  only  you  had  not  been  to  Eton  and  to  Oxford ! 
If  only  you  were  a  man,  a  man  of  the  people,  who 
could  understand!"  ' 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  101 

"Neither  my  birth  nor  my  education,"  he  assured 
her,  "have  aft'ected  my  present  outlook  upon  hfe." 

"Pooh!"  she  scoffed.  "You  talk  like  a  stiffened 
sheet  of  foolscap !  I  am  to  leave  here  to-morrow, 
then,  without  my  packet?" 

"You  must  certainly  leave — when  you  do  leave — 
without  that,"  he  assented.  "There  is  one  thing, 
however,  which  I  very  sincerely  hope  that  you  will 
leave  behind  you." 

"And  that.?" 

"Your  forgiveness." 

"My  forgiveness  for  what?"  she  asked,  after  a 
moment's  pause. 

"For  my  rashness  this  morning." 

Her  eyes  grew  a  little  larger. 

*'Because  you  kissed  me?"  she  observed,  without 
flinching.  "I  have  nothing  to  forgive.  In  fact," 
she  went  on,  "I  think  that  I  should  have  had  more 
to  forgive  if  you  had  not." 

He  was  puzzled  and  yet  encouraged.  She  was  al- 
ways bewildering  him  by  her  sudden  changes  from 
the  woman  of  sober  thoughtfulness  to  the  woman 
of  feeling,  the  woman  eager  to  give,  eager  to  re- 
ceive. At  that  moment  it  seemed  as  though  her  sex 
possessed  her  to  the  exclusion  of  everything  outside. 
Her  eyes  were  soft  and  filled  with  the  desire  of  love, 
her  lips  sweet  and  tremulous.  She  had  suddenly 
created  a  new  atmosphere  around  her,  an  atmosphere 
of  bewildering  and  passionate  femininity. 


102  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"Won't  you  tell  me,  please,  what  you  mean?"  he 
begged. 

"Isn't  it  clear?"  she  answered,  very  softly  but 
with  a  suspicion  of  scorn  in  her  low  tones.  *'You 
kissed  me  because  I  deliberately  invited  it.  I  know 
that  quite  well.  My  anger — and  I  have  been  angry 
about  it — is  with  myself." 

He  was  a  little  taken  aback.  Her  perfect  natural- 
ness was  disarming,  a  little  confusing. 

"You  certainly  did  seem  provocative,"  he  con- 
fessed, *'but  I  ought  to  have  remembered." 

"You  are  very  stupid,"  she  sighed.  "I  deliber- 
ately invited  A^our  embrace.  Your  withholding  it 
would  simply  have  added  to  my  humiliation.  I  am 
furious  with  myself,  simply  because,  although  I  have 
lived  a  great  part  of  my  life  with  men,  on  equal  terms 
with  them,  working  with  them,  playing  Avith  them, 
seeing  more  of  them  at  all  times  than  of  my  own 
sex,  such  a  thing  has  never  happened  to  me  before." 

"I  felt  that,"  he  said  simply. 

For  a  moment  her  face  shone.  There  was  a  look 
of  gratitude  in  her  eyes.  Her  impulsive  grasp  of  his 
hand  left  his  fingers  tingling. 

"I  am  glad  that  you  understood,"  she  murmured. 
"Perhaps  that  will  help  me  just  a  little.  For  the 
rest,  if  you  wish  to  be  very  kind,  3'ou  will  forget." 

"If  I  cannot  do  that,"  he  promised,  "I  will  at  least 
turn  the  key  upon  my  memories." 

"Do  more  than  that,"  she  begged.     "Throw  the 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  103 

key  into  the  sea,  or  whatever  obHvion  you  choose  to 
conjure  up.  Moments  such  as  those  have  no  place 
in  my  hfe.  There  is  one  purpose  there  more  in- 
tense than  anything  else,  that  very  purpose  which 
by  some  grim  irony  of  fate  it  seems  to  be  within 
your  power  to  destroy." 

He  remained  silent.  Ordinary  expressions  of  re- 
gret seemed  too  inadequate.  Besides,  the  charm  of 
the  moment  was  passing.  The  other  side  of  her  was 
reasserting  itself. 

"I  suppose,"  she  went  on,  a  little  drearily,  "that 
even  if  I  told  you  upon  my  honour,  of  my  certain 
knowledge,  that  the  due  delivery  of  that  packet  might 
save  the  lives  of  thousands  of  your  countrymen, 
might  save  hearts  from  breaking,  homes  from  be- 
coming destitute — even  if  I  told  you  all  this,  would  it 
help  me  in  my  prayer.?" 

"Nothing  could  help  you,"  he  assured  her,  "but 
your  whole  confidence,  and  even  then  I  fear  that  the 
result  would  be  the  same." 

"Oh,  but  you  are  very  hard!"  she  murmured. 
"My  confidence  belongs  to  others.  It  is  not  mine 
alone  to  give  you." 

"You  see,"  he  explained,  "I  know  beforehand  that 
you  are  speaking  the  truth  as  you  see  it.  I  know 
beforehand  that  any  scheme  in  which  you  are  en- 
gaged is  for  the  benefit  of  our  fellow  creatures  and 
not  for  their  harm.  But  alas !  you  make  yourself 
the  judge  of  these  things,  and  there  are  times  when 


104  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

individual  effort  is  the  most  dangerous  thing  in 
life." 

**If  you  were  any  one  else !"  she  sighed. 

"Why  be  prejudiced  about  me?"  he  protested. 
*'Believe  me,  I  am  not  a  frivolous  person.  I,  too, 
think  of  life  and  its  problems.  You  yourself  are  an 
aristocrat.  Why  should  not  I  as  well  as  you  have 
sympathy  and  feeling  for  those  who  suffer?" 

"I  am  a  Russian,"  she  reminded  him,  "and  in  Rus- 
sia it  is  different.  Besides,  I  am  no  longer  an  aristo- 
crat. I  am  a  citizeness  of  the  world,  I  have  es- 
chewed everything  in  life  except  one  thing,  and  for 
that  I  have  worked  with  all  my  heart  and  strength. 
As  for  you,  what  have  you  done?  What  is  your 
record  ?" 

"Insignificant,  I  fear,"  he  admitted.  "You  see, 
a  very  promising  start  at  the  Bar  was  somewhat 
interfered  with  by  my  brief  period  of  soldier- 
ing." 

"At  the  present  moment  you  have  no  definite  ca- 
reer," she  declared.  "Yoii  have  even  been  wasting 
your  time  censoring." 

"I  am  returning  now  to  my  profession." 

"Your  profession !"  she  scoffed.  "That  means 
you  will  spend  your  time  wrangling  with  a  number 
of  other  bewigged  and  narrow-minded  people  about 
uninteresting  legal  technicalities  which  lead  nowhere 
and  which  no  one  cares  about." 

"There  is  my  journalism." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  105 

"You  have  damned  it  with  your  own  phrase — 
'hack  joumahsm'!" 

"I  may  enter  Parhament." 

"Yes,  to  preserve  your  rights,"  she  retorted. 

"I  am  afraid,"  he  sighed,  "that  you  haven't  a 
very  high  opinion  of  me." 

"It  is  within  your  power  to  make  me  look  upon 
you  as  the  bravest,  the  kindest,  the  most  farseeing 
of  men,"  she  declared. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"I  decline  to  think  that  you  would  think  any  the 
better  of  me  for  committing  a  dishonourable  action 
for  3^our  sake." 

"Try  me,"  she  begged,  her  hand  resting  once  more 
upon  his.  "If  you  want  my  kind  feelings,  my  ever- 
lasting gratitude,  they  are  yours.  Give  me  that 
packet." 

"That  is  impossible,"  he  declared  uncompromis- 
ingly. "If  you  wish  to  alter  my  attitude  with  regard 
to  it,  you  must  tell  me  exactly  from  whom  it  comes, 
what  it  contains,  and  to  whom  it  goes." 

"You  ask  more  than  is  possible.  You  make  me 
almost  sorry — " 

"Sorry  for  what.'"' 

"Sorry  that  I  saved  your  life,"  she  said  boldly. 
*'Why  should  I  not  be?  There  are  many  who  will 
suffer,  many  who  will  lose  their  lives  because  of 
your  obstinacy." 

"If  you  believe  that,  confide  in  me." 


lOe  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

She  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"If  only  you  were  different!" 

*'I  am  a  human  being,"  he  protested.  "I  have 
sympathies  and  heart.  I  would  give  my  life  willingly 
to  save  any  carnage." 

*'I  could  never  make  you  understand,"  she  mur- 
mured hopelessly.  "I  shall  not  try.  I  dare  not  risk 
failure.  Is  this  room  hot,  or  is  it  my  fancy? 
Could  we  have  a  window  open .''" 

"By  all  means." 

He  crossed  the  room  and  lifted  the  blind  from 
before  one  of  the  high  windows  which  opened  sea- 
wards. In  the  panel  of  the  wall,  between  the  win- 
dow to  which  he  addressed  himself  and  the  next  one, 
was  a  tall,  gilt  mirror,  relic  of  the  days,  some  hun- 
dreds of  years  ago,  when  the  apartment  had  bpen 
used  as  a  drawing-room.  Julian,  by  the  merest  ac- 
cident, for  the  pleasure  of  a  stolen  glance  at  Cath- 
erine, happened  to  look  in  it  as  he  leaned  over  to- 
wards the  window  fastening.  For  a  single  moment 
he  stood  rigid.  Catherine  had  risen  to  her  feet  and, 
without  the  slightest  evidence  of  any  fatigue,  was 
leaning,  tense  and  alert,  over  the  tray  on  which  his 
untouched  whisky  and  soda  was  placed.  Her  hand 
was  outstretched.  He  saw  a  little  stream  of  white 
powder  fall  into  the  tumbler.  An  intense  and  sicken- 
ing feeling  of  disappointment  almost  brought  a  groan 
toJiis  lips.  He  conquered  himself  with  an  effort, 
however,  opened  the  window  a  few  inches,  and  re- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  107 

turned  to  his  place.  Catherine  w£is  lying  back,  her 
eyes  half-closed,  her  arms  hanging  listlessly  on  either 
side  of  her  chair. 

"Is  that  better.'"'  he  enquired. 

"V^ery  much,"  she  assured  him.  "Still,  I  think 
that  if  you  do  not  mind,  I  will  go  to  bed.  I  am 
troubled  with  a  very  rare  attack  of  nerves.  Drink 
your  whisky  and  soda,  and  then  will  you  take  me  into 
the  drawing-room.'"' 

He  played  with  his  tumbler  thoughtfully.  His 
first  impulse  was  to  drop  it.  Intervention,  however, 
was  at  hand.  The  door  cfpened,  and  the  Princess  en- 
tered with  Lord  Sher\'inton. 

"At  last !"  the  former  exclaimed.  "I  have  been 
looking  for  you  everywhere,  child.  I  am  sure  that 
you  are  quite  tired  out,  and  I  insist  upon  your  going 
to  bed." 

"Finish  your  whisky  and  soda,"  Catherine  begged 
Julian,  "and  I  will  lean  on  your  arm  as  far  as  the 
staircase." 

Fate  stretched  out  her  right  hand  to  help  him. 
The  Princess  took  possession  of  her  niece. 

"I  shall  look  after  you  myself,"  she  insisted. 
*'Mr.  Orden  is  wanted  to  play  billiards.  Lord  Sherv- 
inton  is  anxious  for  a  game." 

"I  shall  be  delighted,"  Julian  answered  promptly. 

He  moved  to  the  door  and  held  it  open.  Cather- 
ine gave  him  her  fingers  and  a  little  half-dogiltful 
smile.  ^P^ 


108  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"If  only  you*  were  not  so  cruelly  obstinate !"  she 
sighed. 

He  found  no  words  with  which  to  answer  her. 
The  shock  of  his  discovery  was  still  upon  him. 

"You'll  give  me  thirty  in  a  hundred,  Julian,"  Lord 
Shervinton  called  out  cheerfully.  "And  shut  that 
door  as  soon  as  you  can,  there's  a  good  fellow. 
There's  a  most  confounded  draught.'* 


CHAPTER  IX 

It  was  at  some  nameless  hour  in  the  early  morn- 
ing when  Julian's  vigil  came  to  an  end,  when  the 
handle  of  his  door  was  slowly  turned,  and  the  door 
itself  pushed  open  and  closed  again.  Julian,  lying 
stretched  upon  his  bed,  only  half  prepared  for  the 
night,  with  a  dressing  gown  wrapped  around  him, 
continued  to  breathe  heavily,  his  eyes  half-closed, 
listening  intently  to  the  fluttering  of  light  garments, 
the  soft,  almost  noiseless  footfall  of  light  feet.  He 
heard  her  shake  out  his  dinner  coat,  try  the  pockets, 
heard  the  stealthy  opening  and  closing  of  the  drawers 
in  his  wardrobe.  Presently  the  footsteps  drew  near 
to  his  bed.  For  a  moment  he  was  obliged  to  set  his 
teeth.  A  little  waft  of  peculiar,  unanalysable  per- 
fume, half-fascinating,  half-repellent,  came  to  him 
with  a  sense  of  disturbing  familiarity.  She  paused 
by  his-  bedside.  He  felt  her  hand  steal  under  the 
pillow,  which  his  head  scared}'  touched ;  search  the 
pockets  of  his  dressing  gown,  search  even  the  bed. 
He  listened  to  her  soft  breathing.  The  conscious- 
ness of  her  close  and  intimate  presence  affected  him  in 
an  inexplicable  manner.  Presently,  to  his  intense  re- 
lief, she  glided  away  from  his  immediate  neighbour- 


110  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

hood,  and  the  moment  for  which  he  had  waited  came. 
He  heard  her  retreating  footsteps  pass  through  the 
communicating  door  into  his  little  sitting  room, 
where  he  had  purposely  left  a  light  burning.  He 
slipped  softly  from  the  bed  and  followed  her.  She 
was  bending  over  an  open  desk  as  he  crossed  the 
threshold.  He  closed  the  door  and  stood  with  his 
back  to  it. 

"Much  warmer,"  he  said,  "only,  you  see,  it  isn't 
there." 

She  started  violently  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  but 
she  did  not  immediately  turn  around.  When  she  did 
so,  her  demeanour  was  almost  a  shock  to  him.  There 
was  no  sign  of  nervousness  or  apology  in  her  man- 
ner. Her  eyes  flashed  at  him  angrily.  She  wore  a 
loose  red  wrap  trimmed  with  white  fur,  a  dishabille 
unusually  and  provokingly  attractive. 

"So  you  were  shamming  sleep !"  she  exclaimed  in- 
dignantly. 

"Entirely,"  he  admitted. 

Neither  spoke  for  a  moment.  Her  eyes  fell  upon 
a  tumbler  of  whisky  and  soda,  which  stood  on  a  round 
table  drawn  up  by  the  side  of  his  easy-chair. 

"I  have  not  come  to  bed  thirsty,"  he  assured  her. 
"I  had  another  one  downstairs — to  which  I  helped 
myself.  This  one  I  brought  up  to  try  if  I  could 
remember  sufficient  of  my  chemistry  to  determine  its 
contents.  I  have  been  able  to  decide,  to  my  great 
relief,  that  your  intention  was  probably  to  content 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  111 

yourself  with  plunging  me  into  only  temporary 
slumber." 

"I  wanted  you  out  of  the  way  whilst  I  searched 
your  rooms,"  she  told  him  coolly.  "If  you  were  not 
such  an  obstinate,  pig-headed,  unkind,  prejudiced 
person,  it  would  not  have  been  necessary." 

"Dear  me!"  he  murmured.  "Am  I  all  that.? 
Won't  you  sit  down?" 

For  a  moment  she  looked  as  though  she  were  about 
to  strike  him  with  the  electric  torch  which  she  was 
carrying.  With  a  great  effort  of  self-control,  how- 
ever, she  changed  her  mind  and  threw  herself  into 
his  easy-chair  with  a  little  gesture  of  recklessness. 
Julian  seated  himself  opposite  to  her.  Although  she 
kept  her  face  as  far  as  possible  averted,  he  realised 
more  than  ever  in  those  few  moments  that  she  was 
really  an  extraordinarily  beautiful  person.  Her 
very  attitude  was  full  of  an  angry  gra-ce.  The  quiv- 
ering of  her  lips  was  the  only  sign  of  weakness.  Her 
eyes  were  filled  with  cold  resentment. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "I  am  your  prisoner.     I  listen." 

"You  are  after  that  packet,  I  suppose?" 

"What  sagacity !"  she  scoffed.  "I  trusted  you 
with  it,  and  you  behaved  like  a  brute.  You  kept  it. 
It  has  nothing  to  do  with  you.  You  have  no  right 
to  it." 

"Let  us  understand  one  another,  once  and  for  all," 
he  suggested.  "I  will  not  even  discuss  the  question 
of    rightful    or    wrongful    possession.     I    have    the 


112  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

packet,  and  I  am  going  to  keep  it.  You  cannot 
cajole  it  out  of  me,  you  cannot  steal  it  from  me. 
To-morrow  I  shall  take  it  to  London  and  deliver  it 
to  my  friend  at  the  Foreign  Office.  Nothing  could 
induce  me  to  change  my  mind." 

She  seemed  suddenly  to  be  caught  up  in  the  vortex 
of  a  new  emotion.  All  the  bitterness  passed  from 
her  expression.  She  fell  on  her  knees  by  his  side, 
sought  his  hands,  and  lifted  her  face,  full  of  pas- 
sionate entreaty,  to  his.  Her  eyes  were  dimmed  with 
tears,  her  voice  piteous. 

"Do  not  be  so  cruel,  so  hard,"  she  begged.  "I 
swear  before  Heaven  that  there  is  no  treason  in  those 
papers,  that  they  are  the  one  necessary  link  in  a 
great,  humanitarian  scheme.  Be  generous,  Mr. 
Orden.  Julian!  Give  it  back  to  me.  It  is  mine. 
I  swear — " 

His  hands  gripped  her  shoulders.  She  was  con- 
scious that  he  was  looking  past  her,  and  that  there 
was  horror  in  his  ej'es.  The  words  died  away  on 
her  lips.  She,  too,  turned  her  head.  The  door  of 
the  sitting  room  had  been  opened  from  outside. 
Lord  Maltenby  was  standing  there  in  his  dressing 
gown,  his  hand  stretched  out  behind  him  as  though 
to  keep  some  one  from  following  him. 

"Julian,"  he  demanded  sternly,  "what  is  the  mean- 
ing of  this?" 

For  a  moment  Julian  was  speechless,  bereft  of 
words,  or  sense  of  movement.     Catherine  still  knelt 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  113 

there,  trembling.  Then  Lord  Maltenby  was  pushed 
unceremoniously  to  one  side.  It  was  the  Princess 
who  entered. 

"Catherine  !'*  she  screamed.     "Catherine !" 

The  girl  rose  slowly  to  her  feet.  The  Princess  was 
leaning  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  dabbing  her  eyes  with 
a  handkerchief  and  sobbing  hysterically.  Lord 
Shervinton's  voice  was  heard  outside. 

"What  the  devil  is  all  this  commotion.'"'  he  de- 
manded. 

He,  too,  crossed  the  threshold  and  remained  trans- 
fixed. The  Earl  closed  the  door  firmly  and  stood 
with  his  back  against  it. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "we  will  have  no  more  spectators 
to  this  disgraceful  scene.  Julian,  kindly  remember 
you  are  not  in  your  bachelor  apartments.  You  are 
in  the  house  over  which  your  mother  presides.  Have 
you  any  reason  to  offer,  or  excuse  to  urge,  why  I 
should  not  ask  this  young  woman  to  leave  at  day- 
break?" 

"I  have  no  excuse,  sir,"  Julian  answered,  "I  cer- 
tainly have  a  reason." 

"Name  it?" 

"Because  you  would  be  putting  an  affront  upon 
the  lady  who  has  promised  to  become  my  wife.  I 
am  quite  aware  that  her  presence  in  my  sitting 
room  is  unusual,  but  under  the  circumstances  I  do 
not  feel  called  upon  to  offer  a  general  explanation. 
I  shall  say  nothing  beyond  the  fact  that  a  single 


lU  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

censorious  remark  will  be  considered  by  me  as  an 
insult  to  my  affianced  wife." 

The  Princess  abandoned  her  chorus  of  mournful 
sounds  and  dried  her  eyes.  Lord  Maltenby  was 
speechless. 

"But  why  all  this  mystery?"  the  Princess  asked 
pitifully.  "It  is  a  great  event,  this.  Why  did  you 
not  tell  me,  Catherine,  when  you  came  to  my  room?" 

"There  has  been  some  little  misunderstanding," 
Julian  explained.  "It  is  now  removed.  It  brought 
us,"  he  added,  "very  near  tragedy.  After  what  I 
have  told  you,  I  beg  whatever  may  seem  unusual  to 
you  in  this  visit  with  which  Catherine  has  honoured 
me  will  be  forgotten," 

Lord  Maltenby  drew  a  little  breath  of  relief. 
Fortunately,  he  missed  that  slight  note  of  theatri- 
cality in  Julian's  demeanour  which  might  have  left 
the  situation  still  dubious. 

"Very  well,  then,  Julian,"  he  decided,  "there  is 
nothing  more  to  be  said  upon  the  matter.  Miss 
Abbewajs  you  will  allow  mo  to  escort  you  to  your 
room.  Such  further  explanations  as  you  may  choose 
to  offer  us  can  be  very  well  left  now  until  the  morn- 
ing." 

"You  will  find  that  the  whole  blame  for  this  un- 
conventional happening  devolves  upon  me,"  Julian 
declared. 

"It  was  entirely  my  fault,"  Catherine  murmured 
repentantly.     "I   am   so   sorry   to  have   given   any 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  115 

one  cause  for  distress.     I  do  not  know,  even  now — " 

She  turned  towards  Julian.  He  leaned  for^'ard 
and  raised  her  fingers  to  his  lips. 

"Catherine,"  he  said,  *'every  one  is  a  little  over- 
wrought. Our  misunderstanding  is  finished.  Prin- 
cess, I  shall  try  to  win  your  forgiveness  to-morrow." 

The  Princess  smiled  faintly. 

"Catherine  is  so  unusual,"  she  complained. 

Julian  held  open  the  door,  and  the}'  all  filed  away 
down  the  corridor,  from  which  Lord  Shervinton  had 
long  since  beat  a  hurried  retreat.  He  stood  there 
until  they  reached  the  bend.  Catherine,  who  was 
leaning  on  his  father's  arm,  turned  around.  She 
waved  her  hand  a  little  irresolutely.  She  was  too 
far  off  for  him  to  catch  her  expression,  but  there  was 
something  pathetic  in  her  slow,  listless  walk,  from 
which  all  the  eager  grace  of  a  few  hours  ago  seemed 
to  have  departed. 

It  was  not  until  they  were  nearing  London,  on  the 
following  afternoon,  that  Catherine  awoke  from  a 
lethargy  during  which  she  had  spent  the  greater  por- 
tion of  the  journey.  From  her  place  in  the  comer 
seat  of  the  compartment  in  which  they  had  been  un- 
disturbed since  leaving  Wells,  she  studied  her  com- 
panion through  half-closed  eyes.  Julian  was  read- 
ing an  article  in  one  of  the  Reviews  and  remained  en- 
tirely unconscious  of  her  scrutiny.  His  forehead 
was  puckered,  his  mouth  a  little  contemptuous.     It 


116  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

was  obvious  that  he  did  not  wholly  approve  of  what 
he  was  reading. 

Catherine,  during  those  few  hours  of  solitude,  was 
conscious  of  a  subtle,  slowly  growing  change  in  her 
mental  attitude  towards  her  companion.  Until  the 
advent  of  those  dramatic  hours  at  Maltenby,  she 
had  regarded  him  as  a  pleasant,  even  a  charming 
acquaintance,  but  as  belonging  to  a  type  with  which 
she  was  entirely  and  fundamentally  out  of  sympathy. 
The  cold  chivalry  of  his  behaviour  on  the  preceding 
night  and  the  result  of  her  own  reflections  as  she  sat 
there  studying  him  made  her  inclined  to  doubt  the 
complete  accuracy  of  her  first  judgment.  She  found 
something  unexpectedly  intellectual  and  forceful  in 
his  present  concentration, — in  the  high,  pale  fore- 
head, the  deep-set  but  alert  eyes.  His  long,  loose 
frame  was  yet  far  from  ungainly;  his  grey  tweed 
suit  and  well-worn  brown  shoes  the  careless  attire 
of  a  man  who  has  no  need  to  rely  on  his  tailor  for 
distinction.  His  hands,  too,  were  strong  and  cap- 
able. She  found  herself  suddenly  wishing  that  the 
man  himself  were  different,  that  he  belonged  to  some 
other  and  more  congenial  t}  pe. 

Julian,  in  course  of  time,  laid  down  the  Review 
which  he  had  been  studj^ing  and  looked  out  of  the 
window. 

"We  shall  be  in  London  in  three  quarters  of  an 
hour,"   he    announced   politely. 

She  sat  up  and  yawned,  produced  her  vanity  case, 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  117 

peered  into  the  mirror,  and  used  her  powder  puff 
with  the  somewhat  piquant  assurance  of  the  for- 
eigner. Then  she  closed  her  dressing  case  with  a 
snap,  pulled  down  her  veil,  and  looked  across  at  him. 

"And  how,"  she  asked  demurely,  "does  my  fiance 
propose  to  entertain  me  this  evening?" 

He  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"With  the  exception  of  one  half-hour,"  he  replied 
unexpectedly,  "I  am  wholly  at  your  service." 

"I  am  exacting,"  she  declared.  "I  demand  that 
half-hour  also." 

"I  am  afraid  that  I  could  not  allow  anything  to 
interfere  with  one  brief  call  which  I  must  pay." 

"In  Downing  Street.?" 

"Precisely !" 

"You  go  to  visit  your  friend  at  the  Foreign 
Office.?" 

"Immediately  I  have  called  at  my  rooms." 

She  looked  away  from  him  out  of  the  window. 
Beneath  her  veil  her  eyes  were  a  little  misty.  She 
saw  nothing  of  the  trimly  partitioned  fields,  the  roll- 
ing pastoral  country.  Before  her  vision  tragedies 
seemed  to  pass, — the  blood-stained  paraphernalia  of 
the  battlefield,  the  empty,  stricken  homes,  the  sob- 
bing wbmen  in  black,  striving  to  comfort  their  chil- 
dren whilst  their  own  hearts  were  breaking.  When! 
she  turned  away  from  the  window,  her  face  was 
hardened.  Once  more  she  found  herself  almost  ha- 
ting the  man  who  was  her  companion.     Whatever 


118  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

might  come  afterwards,  at  that  moment  she  had  the 
sensations  of  a  murderess. 

**You  may  know  when  you  sleep  to-night,"  she  ex- 
claimed, "that  you  will  be  the  blood-guiltiest  man  in 
the  world!" 

"I  would  not  dispute  the  trtle,"  he  observed  po- 
litely, "with  your  friend  the  Hohenzollern." 

"He  is  not  my  friend,"  she  retorted,  her  tone  vi- 
brating with  passion.  "I  am  a  traitress  in  your 
eyes  because  I  have  received  a  communication  from 
Germany.  From  whom  does  it  come,  do  you  think? 
From  the  Court  ?  From  the  Chancellor  or  one  of  his 
myrmidons?  Fool!  It  comes  from  those  who  hate 
the  whole  military  party.  It  comes  from  the  Ger- 
many whose  people  have  been  befooled  and  strangled 
throughout  the  war.  It  comes  from  the  people 
whom  your  politicians  have  sought  to  reach  and 
failed."' 

"The  suggestion  is  interesting,"  he  remarked 
coldly,  "but  improbable." 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said,  leaning  a  little  forward 
and  looking  at  him  fixedly,  "if  I  were  really  your 
fiancee — worse!  if  I  were  really  your  wife — I  think 
that  before  long  I  should  be  a  murderess  I" 

"Do  you  dislike  me  as  much  as  all  that?" 

**I  hate  you!  I  think  you  are  the  most  pig- 
headed, obstinate,  self-satisfied,  ignorant  creature 
who  ever  ruined  a  great  cause." 

He  accepted  the  lash  of  her  words  without  any 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  119 

sign  of  offence, — seemed,  indeed,  inclined  to  treat 
them  reflectively. 

"Come,"  he  protested,  "you  have  wasted  a  lot  of 
breath  in  abusing  me.  Why  not  justify  it.f*  Tell 
me  the  story  of  yourself  and  those  who  are  associ- 
ated with  you  in  this  secret  correspondence  with 
Germany?  If  you  are  working  for  a  good  end,  let 
me  know  of  it.  You  blame  me  for  judging  you,  for 
maintaining  a  certain  definite  poise.  You  are  not 
reasonable,  you  know." 

"I  blame  you  for  being  what  you  are,"  she  an- 
swered breathlessly.  "If  you  were  a  person  who  un- 
derstood, who  felt  the  great  stir  of  humanity  out- 
side your  own  little  circle,  who  could  look  across 
your  seas  and  realise  that  nationality  is  accidental 
and  that  the  brotherhood  of  man  throughout  the 
world  is  the  only  real  fact  worthy  of  consideration — 
ah !  if  you  could  realise  these  things,  I  could  talk,  I 
could  explain." 

"You  judge  me  in  somewhat  arbitrary  fashion." 

"I  judge  you  from  your  life,  your  prejudices,  even 
the  views  which  you  have  expressed." 

"There  are  some  of  us,"  he  reminded  her,  "to 
whom  reticence  is  a  national  gift.  I  like  what  you 
said  just  now.  Why  should  you  take  it  for  granted 
that  I  am  a  narrow  squireen.''  Why  shouldn't  you 
believe  that  I,  too,  may  feel  the  horror  of  these 
days.?" 

"You  feel  it  personally  but  not  impersonally,"  she 


120  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

cried.  "You  feel  it  intellectually  but  not  with  your 
heart.  You  cannot  see  that  a  kindred  soul  lives  in 
the  Russian  peasant  and  the  German  labourer,  the 
British  toiler  and  the  French  artificer.  They  are 
all  pouring  out  their  blood  for  the  sake  of  their 
dream,  a  politician's  dream.  Freedom  isn't  won  by 
wars.  It  must  be  won,  if  ever,  by  moral  sacrifice 
and  not  with  blood." 

"Then  explain  to  me,"  he  begged,  "exactly  what 
you  are  doing?  What  your  reason  is  for  being  in 
communication  with  the  German  Government?  Re- 
member that  the  dispatch  I  intercepted  came  from 
no  private  person  in  Germany.  It  came  from  those 
in  authority." 

"That  again  is  not  true,"  she  replied.  *'I  would 
ask  for  permission  to  explain  all  these  things  to  you, 
if  it  were  not  so  hopeless." 

"The  case  of  your  friends  will  probably  be  more 
hopeless  still,"  he  reminded  her,  "after  to-night." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"We  shall  see,"  she  said  solemnly.  "The  Russian 
revolution  surprised  no  one.  Perhaps  an  English 
revolution  would  shake  even  your  self-confidence." 

He  made  no  reply.  Her  blood  tingled,  and  she 
could  have  struck  him  for  the  faint  smile,  almost  of 
amusement,  which  for  a  moment  parted  his  lips.  He 
was  already  on  his  feet,  collecting  their  belongings. 

"Can  you  help  me,"  he  asked,  "with  reference  to 
the  explanations  which  it  will  be  necessary  to  make 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  121 

to  your  aunt  and  to  my  own  people?  We  left  this 
morning,  if  you  remember,  in  order  that  you  might 
visit  the  Russian  Embassy  and  announce  our  be- 
trothal. You  are,  I  believe,  under  an  engagement 
to  return  and  stay  with  my  mother." 

"I  cannot  think  about  those  things  to-day,"  she  re- 
plied. "You  may  take  it  that  I  am  tired  and  that 
you  had  business.  You  know  my  address.  May  I 
be  favoured  with  yours?" 

He  handed  her  a  card  and  scribbled  a  telephone 
number  upon  it.  They  were  in  the  station  now,  and 
their  baggage  in  the  hands  of  separate  porters. 
She  walked  sla)iV'ly  down  the  platform  by  his  side. 

"Will  you  allow  me  to  say,"  he  ventured,  "how 
sorry  I  am — for  all  this?" 

The  slight  uncertainty  of  his  speech  pleased  her. 
She  looked  up  at  him  with  infinite  regret.  As  they 
neared  the  barrier,  she  held  out  her  hand. 

"I,  too,  am  more  sorry  than  I  can  tell  you,"  slie 
said  a  little  tremulously.  "Whatever  may  come, 
that  is  how  I  feel — ^myself.     I  am  sorry." 

They  separated  almost  upon  the  words.  Cath- 
erine was  accosted  by  a  man  at  whom  Julian  glanced 
for  a  moment  in  surprise,  a  man  whose  dress  and 
bearing,  confident  though  it  was,  clearly  indicated 
some  other  status  in  life.  He  glanced  at  Julian  with 
displeasure,  a  displeasure  which  seemed  to  have  some- 
thing of  jealousy  in  its  composition.  Then  he 
grasped  Catherine  warmly  by  the  hand. 


1««  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"Welcome  back  to  London,  Miss  Abbeway !  Your 
news  ?" 

Her  reply  was  Inaudible.  Julian  quickened  his 
pace  and  passed  out  of  the  station  ahead  of  them. 


CHAPTER  X 

The  Bishop  and  the  Prime  Minister  met,  one  after- 
noon a  few  days  later,  at  the  comer  of  Horse  Guards 
Avenue.  The  latter  was  looking  brown  and  weU, 
distinctly  the  better  for  his  brief  holiday.  The 
Bishop,  on  the  contrary,  was  pale  and  appeared 
harassed.  They  shook  hands  and  exchanged  for  a 
moment  the  usual  inanities. 

"Tell  me,  Mr.  Stenson,"  the  Bishop  asked  earn- 
estly, "what  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  Press  talk 
about  peace  next  month?  I  have  heard  a  hint  that 
it  was  inspired." 

"You  are  wrong,"  was  the  firm  reply.  "I  have 
sent  my  private  secretary  around  to  a  few  of  the 
newspapers  this  morning.  It  just  happens  to  be  the 
sensation  of  the  moment,  and  it*s  fed  all  the  time 
from  the  other  side." 

"There  is  nothing  in  it,  then,  really.''" 

"Nothing  whatever.  Believe  me.  Bishop — and 
there  is  no  one  feeling  the  strain  more  than  I  am — 
the  time  has  not  yet  come  for  peace." 

"You  politicians!"  the  Bishop  sighed.  "Do  you 
sometimes  forget,  I  wonder,  that  even  the  pawns  you 
move  are  human.''" 

"I  can  honestly  say  that  I,  at  any  rate,  have 


124.  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

never  forgotten  it,"  Mr.  Stenson  answered  gravely. 
"There  isn't  a  man  in  my  Government  who  has  a 
single  personal  feeling  in  favour  of,  or  a  single 
benefit  to  gain,  .by  -the  continmance  of  this  ghastly 
war.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  scarcely  one  who 
does  not  realise  that  the  end  is  not  yet.  We  have 
pledged  our  word,  the  word  of  the  English  nation, 
to  a  peace  based  only  upon  certain  contingencies. 
Those  contingencies  the  enemy  is  not  at  present  pre- 
pared to  accept.  There  is  no  immediate  reason  why 
he  should." 

"But  are  you  sure  of  that?"  the  Bishop  ventured 
doubtfully.  "When  3'ou  speak  of  Germany,  you 
speak  of  William  of  Hohenzollern  and  his  clan.  Is 
that  Germany.''     Is  theirs  the  voice  of  the  people.''" 

"I  would  be  happy  to  believe  that  it  was  not,"  ]Mr. 
Stenson  replied,  "but  if  that  is  the  case,  let  them 
give  us  a  sign  of  it." 

"That  sign,"  declared  the  Bishop,  with  a  gleam  of 
hopefulness  in  his  tone,  "may  come,  and  before  long." 

The  two  men  were  on  the  point  of  parting.  Mr. 
Stenson  turned  and  walked  a  yard  or  two  with  his 
companion. 

"By  the  bye.  Bishop,"  he  enquired,  "have  you 
heard  any  rumours  concerning  the  sudden  disap- 
pearance of  our  young  friend  Julian  Orden.''" 

The  Bishop  for  a  moment  was  silent.  A  passer-by 
glanced  at  the  two  men  S3'mpathetically.  Of  the 
two,  he  thought,  it  was  the  man  in  spiritual  charge 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  125 

of  a  suffering  people  who  showed  more  sign  of  the 
strain. 

"I  have  heard  rumours,"  the  Bishop  acknowl- 
edged.    "Tell  me  what  you  know?'* 

"Singularly  little,"  Mr.  Stenson  replied.  "He  left 
Maltenby  with  Miss  Abbeway  the  day  after  their  en- 
gagement, and,  according  to  the  stories  which  I  have 
heard,  arranged  to  dine  with  her  that  night.  She 
came  to  call  for  him  and  found  that  he  had  disap- 
peared. According  to  his  servant,  he  simply  walked 
out  in  morning  clothes,  soon  after  six  o'clock,  with- 
out leaving  any  message,  and  never  returned.  On 
the  top  of  that,  though,  there  followed,  as  I  expect 
you  have  heard,  some  very  insistent  police  enquiries 
as  to  Orden's  doings  on  the  night  he  spent  with  his 
friend  Miles  Furley.  There  is  no  doubt  that  a  Ger- 
man submarine  was  close  to  Blakeney  harbour  that 
night  and  that  a  communication  of  some  sort  was 
landed." 

"It  seems  absurd  to  connect  Julian  with  any  idea 
of  treasonable  communication  with  Germany,"  the 
Bishop  said  slowly.  "A  more  typical  young  Eng- 
lishman of  his  class  I  never  met." 

"Up  to  a  certain  point  I  agree  with  you,"  Mr. 
Stenson  confessed,  "but  there  are  some  further  ru- 
mours to  which  I  cannot  allude,  concerning  Julian 
Orden,  which  are,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  surpris- 
ing." 

The   two  men    came   to   a   standstill   once   more. 


1«6  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

Stenson  laid  his  hand  upon  his  corapanion*s  shoulder. 

"Come,"  he  went  on,  "I  know  what  is  the  matter 
with  you,  my  friend.  Your  heart  is  too  big.  The 
cry  of  the  widow  and  the  children  lingers  too  long  in 
your  ears.  Remember  some  of  your  earlier  sermons 
at  the  beginning  of  the  war.  Remember  how  won- 
derfully you  spoke  one  morning  at  St.  Paul's  upon 
the  spirituality  to  be  developed  by  suffering,  by 
sacrifice.  'The  hand  which  chastises  also  purifies.' 
Wasn't  that  what  you  said.''  You  probably  didn't 
know  that  I  was  one  of  your  listeners,  even.  I  my- 
self, in  those  days,  scarcely  looked  upon  the  war 
as  I  do  now.  I  remember  crawling  in  at  the  side 
door  of  the  Cathedral  and  sitting  unrecognised  on  a 
hard  chair.  It  was  a  great  congregation,  and  I  was 
far  away  in  the  background,  but  I  heard.  I  re- 
niember  the  rustle,  too,  the  little  moaning,  indrawn 
breath  of  emotion  when  the  people  rose  to  their  feet. 
Take  heart.  Bishop.  I  will  remind  you  once  more 
of  your  own  words — *These  are  the  days  of  purifica- 
tion.' " 

The  two  men  separated.  The  Bishop  walked 
thoughtfully  towards  the  Strand,  his  hands  clasped 
behind  his  back,  the  echo  of  those  quoted  words 
of  his  still  in  his  ear.  As  he  came  to  the  busy  cross- 
ing, he  raised  his  head  and  looked  around  him. 

"Perhaps,"  he  murmured,  "my  eyes  have  been 
closed.     Perhaps  there  are  things  to  be  seen." 

He  called  a  taxicab  and,  giving  the  nmn  some  mut- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  127 

tered  directions,  was  driven  slowly  down  the  Strand, 
looking  eagerly  first  on  one  side  of  the  way  and  then 
on  the  other.  It  was  approaching  the  luncheon, 
hour  and  the  streets  were  thronged.  Here  seemed 
to  be  the  meeting  place  of  the  Colonial  troops, — 
long,  sinewy  men,  many  of  them,  with  bronzed  faces 
and  awkward  gait.  They  elbowed  their  way  along, 
side  by  side  with  the  queerest  collection  of  people  in 
the  world.  They  stopped  and  talked  in  little  knots, 
they  entered  and  left  the  public  houses,  stood  about 
outside  the  restaurants.  Here  and  there  they  walked 
arm  in  arm  with  women.  Taxicabs  were  turning 
in  at  the  Savoy,  taxicabs  and  private  cars.  Young 
ladies  of  the  stage,  sometimes  alone,  very  often  es- 
corted, were  everywhere  in  evidence.  The  life  of 
London  was  flowing  on  in  very  much  the  same  chan- 
nels. There  were  few,  if  any  signs  of  that  thing 
for  which  he  sought.  The  taxicab  turned  west- 
wards, crossed  Piccadilly  Circus  and  proceeded  along 
PiccadilW,  its  solitary  occupant  still  gazing  into  the 
faces  of  the  people  with  that  same  consuming  in- 
terest. It  was  all  the  same  over  again — the  smiling 
throngs  entering  and  leaving  the  restaurants,  the 
smug  promenaders,  the  stream  of  gaily  dressed 
women  and  girls.  Bond  Street  was  even  more 
crowded  with  shoppers  and  loiterers.  The  shop 
windows  were  as  full  as  ever,  the  toilettes  of  the 
women  as  wonderful.  Mankind,  though  khaki-clad, 
was   plentiful.     The    narrow    thoroughfare   was    so 


128  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

crowded  that  his  taxicab  went  only  at  a  snail's  crawl, 
and  occasionally  he  heard  scraps  of  conversation. 
Two  pretty  girls  were  talking  to  two  young  men  in 
uniform. 

"What  a  rag  last  night  t  I  didn't  get  home  till 
three!" 

"Dick  never  got  home  at  all.     Still  missing!" 

"Evie  and  I  are  worn  out  with  shopping.  Every- 
thing's twice  as  expensive,  but  one  simply  can't  do 
without." 

"I  shouldn't  do  without  anything,  these  days. 
One  never  knows  how  long  it  may  last." 

The  taxicab  moved  on,  and  the  Bishop's  eyes  for 
a  moment  were  half -closed.  The  voices  followed  him, 
however.  Two  women,  leading  curled  and  pampered 
toy  dogs,  were  talking  at  the  corner  of  the  street. 

"Sugar,  my  dear?"  one  was  saying.  "Why,  I 
laid  in  nearly  a  hundredweight,  and  I  can  always 
get  what  I  want  now.  The  shopkeepers  know  that 
they  have  to  have  your  custom  after  the  war.  It's 
only  the  people  who  can't  afford  to  buy  much  at  a 
time  who  are  really  inconvenienced." 

"Of  course,  it's  awfully  sad  about  the  war,  and 
all  that,  but  one  has  to  think  of  oneself.  Harry  told 
me  last  night  that  after  paying  all  the  income  tax 
he  couldn't  get  out  of,  and  excess  profits,  he  is 
still—" 

The  voices  dropped  to  a  whisper.  The  Bishop 
thrust  his  head  out  of  the  window. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  1^9 

"Drive  me  to  Tothill  Street,  Westminster,"  he 
directed.     "As  quickly  as  possible,  please." 

The  man  turned  up  a  side  street  and  drove  off. 
Still  the  Bishop  watched,  only  by  now  the  hopeful- 
ness had  gone  from  his  face.  He  had  sought  for 
something  of  which  there  had  been  no   sign. 

He  dismissed  liis  taxicab  in  front  of  a  large  and 
newly  finished  block  of  buildings  in  the  vicinity  of 
Westminster.  A  lift  man  conducted  him  to  the 
seventh  floor,  and  a  commissionaire  ushered  him  into 
an  already  crowded  waiting  room.  A  youth,  how- 
ever, who  had  noticed  the  Bishop's  entrance,  took  him 
in  charge,  and,  conducting  him  through  two  other 
cro^vded  rooms,  knocked  reverently  at  the  door  of 
an  apartment  at  the  far  end  of  the  suite.  The  door 
was  opened,  after  a  brief  delay,  by  a  young  man 
of  unpleasant  appearance,  who  gazed  suspiciously  at 
the  distinguished  visitor  through  heavy  spectacles. 

"The  Bishop  wishes  to  see  Mr.  Fenn,"  his  guide 
announced. 

"Show  him  in  at  once,"  a  voice  from  the  middle  of 
the  room  directed.  "You  can  go  and  have  your 
lunch,  Johnson." 

The  Bishop  found  himself  alone  with  the  man 
whom  he  had  come  to  visit, — a  moderately  tall,  thin 
figure,  badly-dressed,  with  a  drooping  moustache, 
bright  eyes  and  good  forehead,  but  peevish  expres- 
sion. He  stood  up  while  he  shook  hands  with  the 
Bishop  and  motioned  him  to  a  chair. 


130  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"Krst  time  you've  honoured  us,  Bishop,"  he  re- 
marked, with  the  air  of  one  straining  after  an 
equality  which  he  was  far  from  feeling. 

"I  felt  an  unconquerable  impulse  to  talk  with  you," 
the  Bishop  admitted.     "Tell  me  your  news?" 

"Everything  progresses,"  Nicholas  Fenn  declared 
confidently.  "The  last  eleven  days  have  seen  a  social 
movement  in  this  country,  conducted  with  absolute 
secrecy,  equivalent  in  its  portentous  issues  to  the 
greatest  revolution  of  modern  times.  For  the  first 
time  in  history,  Bishop,  the  united  voice  of  the 
people  has  a  chance  of  making  itself  heard." 

"Mr.  Fenn,"  the  Bishop  said,  *'you  have  accom- 
plished a  wonderful  work.  Now  comes  the  moment 
when  we  must  pause  and  think.  We  must  be  ab- 
solutely and  entirely  certain  that  the  first  time  that 
voice  is  heard  it  is  heard  in  a  righteous  cause." 

"Is  there  a  more  righteous  cause  in  the  world 
than  the  cause  of  peace?"     Fenn  asked  sharply. 

*'Not  if  that  peace  be  just  and  reasonable,"  the 
Bishop  replied,  "not  if  that  peace  can  bring  to  an 
end  this  horrible  and  bloody  struggle." 

"We  shall  see  to  that,"  Fenn  declared,  with  a  self- 
satisfied  air. 

"You  have  by  now,  I  suppose,  the  terms  proposed 
by  your — your  kindred  body  in  Germany?" 

Nicholas  Fenn  stroked  his  moustache.  There  was 
a  frown  upon  his  forehead. 

"I  expect  to  have  them  at  any  moment,"  he  said, 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  ISl 

*'but  to  tell  you  the  truth,  at  the  present  moment  they 
are  not  available." 

"But  I  thought—" 

"Just  so,"  the  other  interrupted.  "The  docu- 
ment, however,  was  not  where  we  expected  to  find  it." 

*'Surely  that  is  a  very  serious  complication.''" 

"It  will  mean  a  certain  delay  if  we  don't  succeed 
in  getting  hold  of  it,"  Fenn  admitted.  "We  intend 
to  be  firm  about  the  matter,  though." 

The  Bishop's  expression  was  troubled. 

"Julian  Orden,"  he  said,  "is  my  godson." 

"Necessity  knows  neither  friendship  nor  relation- 
ship," Fenn  pronounced  didactically.  "Better  ask 
no  questions,  sir.  These  details  do  not  concern 
you." 

"They  concern  my  conscience,"  was  the  grave 
reply.  "Ours  is  an  earnest  spiritual  effort  for 
peace,  a  taking  away  from  the  hands  of  the  poli- 
ticians of  a  great  human  question  which  they  have 
proved  themselves  unable  to  handle.  We  should 
look,  therefore,  with  peculiar  care  to  the  means  we 
adopt." 

Nicholas  Fenn  nodded.  He  lit  a  very  pungent 
cigarette  from  a  paper  packet  by  his  side. 

"You  and  I,  Bishop,"  he  said,  "are  pacifists  in  the 
broadest  meaning  of  the  word,  but  that  does  not 
mean  that  we  may  not  sometimes  have  to  use  force 
to  attain  our  object.  We  have  a  department  which 
alone  is  concerned  with  the  dealing  of  such  matters. 


132  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

It  is  that  department  which  has  undertaken  the  for- 
warding and  receipt  of  all  communications  between 
ourselves  and  our  friends  across  the  North  Sea. 
Its  operations  are  entirely  secret,  even  from  the  rest 
of  the  Council.  It  will  deal  with  Julian  Orden.  It 
is  best  for  tou  not  to  interfere,  or  even  to  have  cog- 
nisance of  what  is  going  on." 

"I  cannot  agree."  the  Bishop  protested.  "An  act 
of  unchristian  violence  would  be  a  flaw  in  the  whole 
superstructure  which  we  are  trying  to  build  up." 

"Let  us  discuss  some  other  subject,"  Fenn  pro- 
posed. 

*'Pardon  me,"  was  the  firm  repl^^  "I  have  come 
here  to  discuss  this  one." 

Nicholas  Fenn  looked  down  at  the  table.  His 
expression  was  not  altogether  pleasant. 

"Your  position  with  us,  sir,"  he  said,  "although 
much  appreciated,  does  not  warrant  your  interfer- 
ence in  executive  details." 

"Nevertheless,"  the  Bishop  insisted,  "you  must 
please  treat  me  reasonably  in  this  matter,  Mr.  Fenn. 
Remember  I  am  not  altogether  extinct  as  a  force 
amongst  your  followers.  I  have  three  mass  meet- 
ings to  address  this  week,  and  there  is  the  sermon 
next  Sunday  at  Westminster  Abbey,  at  which  it 
has  been  agreed  that  I  shall  strike  the  first  note  of 
warning.  I  am  a  helper,  I  believe,  worth  consider- 
ing, and  there  is  no  man  amongst  you  who  risks 
what  I  risk." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  13^ 

*'Exactlj  what  are  you  asking  from  me?"  Fenu 
demanded,  after  a  moment's  deliberation. 

"I  wish  to  know  the  whereabouts  and  condition 
of  Julian  Orden." 

"The  matter  is  one  which  is  being  dealt  with  by 
our  secret  service  department,"  Fenn  replied,  "but 
I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  not  give  you  all  reason- 
able information.  The  young  man  in  question  asked 
for  trouble,  and  to  a  certain  extent  he  has  found 
it." 

"I  understand,"  the  Bishop  reminded  his  com- 
panion, "that  he  has  very  nearly,  if  not  altogether, 
compromised  himself  in  his  efforts  to  shield  Miss 
Abbcway." 

"That  may  be  so,"  Fenn  admitted,  "but  it  doesn't 
alter  the  fact  that  he  refuses  to  return  to  her  the 
packet  which  she  entrusted  to  his  care." 

"And  he  is  still  obdurate?" 

"Up  to  now,  absolutely  so.  Perhaps,"  Fenn 
added,  with  a  slightly  malicious  smile,  "you  would 
like  to  try  what  you  can  do  with  him  yourself?" 

The  Bishop  hesitated. 

*'Julian  Orden,"  he  said,  "is  a  young  man  of  pe- 
culiarh'  stubborn  type,  but  if  I  thought  that  my 
exhortations  would  be  of  any  benefit,  I  would  not 
shrink  from  trying  them,  whatever  it  might  cost 
me." 

"Better  have  a  try,  then,"  Fenn  suggested,  "If 
we  do  not  succeed  within  the  next  twenty-four  hours. 


134  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

I  shall  give  you  an  order  to  see  him.  I  don't  mind 
confessing,"  he  went  on  confidentially,  "that  the  need 
for  the  production  of  that  document  is  urgent,  apart 
from  the  risk  we  run  of  having  our  plans  forestalled 
if  it  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Government." 

"I  presume  that  Miss  Abbeway  has  already  done 
her  best?" 

"She  has  worn  herself  out  with  persuasions." 

"Has  he  himself  been  told  the  truth.'"' 

Fenn  shook  his  head. 

"From  your  own  knowledge  of  the  young  man,  do 
you  think  that  it  would  be  of  any  use?  Even  Miss 
Abbeway  is  forced  to  admit  that  any  one  less  likely 
to  sympathise  with  our  aims  it  would  be  impossible  to 
find.  At  the  same  time,  if  we  do  arrange  an  inter- 
view for  you,  use  any  arguments  you  can  think  of. 
To  tell  you  the  truth,  our  whole  calculations  have 
been  upset  by  not  discovering  the  packet  upon  his 
person.  He  was  on  his  way  to  Downing  Street  when 
our  agents  intervened,  and  we  never  doubted  that 
he  would  have  it  with  him.  When  will  it  be  con- 
venient for  you  to  pay  your  visit?" 

"At  any  time  you  send  for  me,"  the  Bishop  re- 
plied. "Meanwhile,  Mr.  Fenn,  before  I  leave  I  want 
to  remind  you  once  more  of  the  original  purpose  of 
my  call  upon  you." 

Fenn  frowned  a  little  peevishly  as  he  rose  to  usher 
his  visitor  out. 

"Miss   Abbeway  has   already  extorted    a   foolish 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  135 

promise  from  us,"  he  said.  "The  young  man's 
safety  for  the  present  is  not  in  question." 

The  Bishop,  more  from  custom  than  from  any  ap- 
petite, walked  across  the  Park  to  the  Athenaeum. 
Mr.  Plannaway  Wells  accosted  him  in  the  hall. 

"This  is  a  world  of  rumours,"  he  remarked  with 
a  smile.  "I  have  just  heard  that  Julian  Orden,  of 
all  men  in  the  world,  has  been  shot  as  a  German 
spy." 

The  Bishop  smiled  with  dignity. 

"You  may  take  it  from  me,"  he  said  gravely,  "that 
the  rumour  is  untrue." 


CHAPTER  XI 

Nicholas  Fenn,  although  civilisation  had  laid  a 
heavy  hand  upon  him  during  the  last  few  years,  was 
certainly  not  a  man  whose  outward  appearance  de- 
noted any  advance  in  either  culture  or  taste.  His 
morning  clothes,  although  he  had  recently  abandoned 
the  habit  of  dealing  at  a  ready-made  emporium,  were 
neither  well  chosen  nor  well  worn.  His  evening  at- 
tire was,  if  possible,  worse.  He  met  Catherine  that 
evening  in  the  lobby  of  what  he  believed  to  be  a 
fashionable  grillroom,  in  a  swallow-tailed  coat,  a 
badly  fitting  shirt  with  a  single  stud-hole,  a  black 
tie,  a  collar  which  encircled  his  neck  like  a  clerical 
band,  and  ordinary  walking  boots.  She  repressed  a 
little  shiver  as  she  shook  hands  and  tried  to  remem- 
ber that  this  was  not  only  the  man  whom  several 
millions  of  toilers  had  chosen  to  be  their  repre- 
sentative, but  also  the  duly  appointed  secretary  of 
the  most  momentous  assemblage  of  human  beings 
in  the  world's  history. 

"I  hope  I  am  not  late,"  she  said.  "I  really  do 
not  care  much  about  dining  out,  these  days,  but  3^our 
message  was  so  insistent." 

"One  must  have  relaxation,"  he  declared.      "The 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  137 

weight  of  affairs  all  day  long  is  a  terrible  strain. 
Shall  we  go  in?" 

They  entered  the  room  and  stood  looking  aim- 
lessly about  them,  Fenn  having,  naturally  enough, 
failed  to  realise  the  necessity  of  securing  a  table. 
A  malt  re  dliotel,  however,  recognised  Catherine  and 
hastened  to  their  rescue.  She  conversed  with  the 
man  for  a  few  minutes  in  French,  while  her  com- 
panion listened  admiringly,  and  finally,  at  his  solici- 
tation, herself  ordered  the  dinner. 

"The  news,  please,  Mr.  Fenn.'"'  she  asked,  as  soon 
as  the  man  had  withdrawn. 

"News?"  he  repeated.  "Oh,  let's  leave  it  alone 
for  a  time !     One  gets  sick  of  shop." 

She  raised  her  eyebrows  a  little  discouragingly. 
She  was  dressed  with  extraordinary  simplicity,  but 
the  difference  in  caste  between  the  two  supplied  a 
problem  for  many  curious  observers. 

"Why  should  we  talk  of  trifles,"  she  demanded, 
"when  we  both  have  such  a  great  interest  in  the  most 
wonderful  subject  in  the  world?" 

"What  is  the  most  wonderful  subject  in  the 
world?"  he  asked  impressively. 

"Our  cause,  of  course,"  she  answered  firmly,  "the 
cause  of  all  the  peoples — Peace." 

"One  labours  the  whole  day  long  for  that,"  he 
grumbled.  "When  the  hour  for  rest  comes,  surely 
one  may  drop  it  for  a  time?" 

"Do  you  feel  like  that?"  she  remarked  indiffer- 


188  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

ently.  "For  myself,  during  these  days  I  have  but 
one  thought.  There  is  nothing  else  in  my  life.  And 
you,  with  all  those  thousands  and  millions  of  your 
fellow  creatures  toiling,  watching  and  waiting  for  a 
sign  from  you — oh,  I  can't  imagine  how  your 
thoughts  can  ever  wander  from  them  for  a  mo- 
ment, how  you  can  ever  remember  that  self  even 
exists !  I  should  like  to  be  trusted,  Mr.  Fenn,  as  you 
are  trusted." 

"My  work,"  he  said  complacently,  "has,  I  hope, 
justified  that  trust." 

"Naturally,"  she  assented,  "and  yet  the  greatest 
part  of  it  is  to  come.     Tell  me  about  Mr.  Orden?" 

"There  is  no  change  in  the  fellow's  attitude.  I 
don't  imagine  there  will  be  until  the  last  moment. 
He  is  just  a  pig-headed,  insufferably  conceited  Eng- 
lishman, full  of  class  prejudices  to  his  finger 
tips." 

"He  is  nevertheless  a  man,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 
"I  heard  only  yesterday  that  he  earned  consider- 
able distinction  even  in  his  brief  soldiering." 

"No  doubt,"  Fenn  remarked,  without  enthusiasm, 
"he  has  the  bravery  of  an  animal.  By  the  bye,  the 
Bishop  dropped  in  to  see  me  this  morning." 

"Really?"  she  asked.     "What  did  he  want.?" 

"Just  a  personal  call,"  was  the  elaborately  care- 
less reply.  "He  likes  to  look  in  for  a  chat,  now  and 
then.  He  spoke  about  Orden,  too.  I  persuaded  him 
that  if  we  don't   succeed  within   the  next  twenty- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  139 

four  hours,  it  will  be  his  duty  to  see  what  he  can 
do." 

"Oh,  but  that  was  too  bad!"  she  declared.  "You 
know  how  he  feels  his  position,  poor  man.  He  will 
simply  loathe  having  to  tell  Julian — Mr.  Orden,  I 
mean — that  he  is  connected  with — " 

"Well,  with  what.  Miss  Abbeway  ?" 

"With  anything  in  the  nature  of  a  conspiracy. 
Of  course,  Mr.  Orden  wouldn't  understand.  How 
could  he?  I  think  it  was  cruel  to  bring  the  Bishop 
into  the  matter  at  all." 

"Nothing,"  Fenn  pronounced,  "is  cruel  that  helps 
the  cause.  What  will  you  drink.  Miss  Abbeway.'' 
You'll  have  some  champagne,  won't  you.''" 

"What  a  horrible  idea !"  she  exclaimed,  smiling  at 
him  nevertheless.  "Fancy  a  great  Labour  leader 
suggesting  such  a  thing!  No,  I'll  have  some  light 
French  wine,   thank  you." 

Fenn  passed  the  order  on  to  the  waiter,  a  little 
crestfallen. 

"I  don't  often  drink  anything  myself,"  he  said, 
"but  this  seemed  to  me  to  be  something  of  an  oc- 
casion." 

"You  have  some  news,  then.'*" 

"Not  at  all.     I  meant  dining  with  you." 

She  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"Oh,  that.''"  she  murmured.  "That  is  simply  a 
matter  of  routine.  I  thought  you  had  some  news, 
or  some  work." 


140  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"Isn't  it  possible,  Miss  Abbeway,"  he  pleaded, 
**that  we  might  have  some  interests  outside  our 
work?" 

"I  shouldn't  think  so,"  she  answered,  with  an  in- 
solence which  was  above  his  head. 

"There  is  no  reason  why  we  shouldn't  have,"  he 
persisted. 

"You  must  tell  me  your  tastes,"  she  suggested. 
"Are  you  fond  of  grand  opera,  for  instance.''  I 
adore  it.     *Parsifal'— 'The  Ring'?" 

"I  don't  know  much  about  music,"  he  admitted. 
"My  sister,  who  used  to  live  with  me,  plays  the 
piano." 

"We'll  drop  music,  then,"  she  said  hastily. 
"Books?  But  I  remember  you  once  told  me  that 
you  had  never  read  anything  except  detective  novels, 
and  that  you  didn't  care  for  poetry.  Sports?  I 
adore  tennis  and  I  am  rather  good  at  golf." 

"I  have  never  wasted  a  single  moment  of  my  life 
in  games,"  he  declared  proudly. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Well,  you  see,  that  leaves  us  rather  a  long  way 
apart,  outside  our  work,  doesn't  it?" 

"Even  if  I  were  prepared  to  admit  that,  which 
I  am  not,"  he  replied,  "our  work  itself  is  surely 
enough  to  make  up  for  all  other  things." 

"You  are  quite  right,"  she  confessed.  "There  is 
nothing  else  worth  thinking  about,  worth  talking 
about.     Tell  me — vou  had  an  inner  Council  this  af- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  141 

ternoon — is  anything  decided  yet  about  the  leader- 
ship?" 

He  sighed  a  little. 
•    "If  ever  there  was  a  great  cause  in  the  world,"  he 
said,   "which  stands   some  chance   of  missing  com- 
plete   success    through    senseless    and    low-minded 
jealousy,  it  is  ours." 

"Mr.  Fenn !"  she  exclaimed. 

"I  mean  it,"  he  assured  her.  "As  you  know,  a 
chairman  must  be  elected  this  week,  and  that  chair- 
man, of  course,  will  hold  more  power  in  his  hand 
than  any  emperor  of  the  past  or  any  sovereign  of  the 
present.  That  leader  is  going  to  stop  the  war.  He 
is  going  to  bring  peace  to  the  world.  It  is  a  mighty 
post,  Miss  Abbeway." 

"It  is  indeed,"  she  agreed. 

"Yet  would  you  believe,"  he  went  on,  leaning 
across  the  table  and  neglecting  for  a  moment  his 
dinner,  "would  you  believe.  Miss  Abbeway,  that  out 
of  the  twenty  representatives  chosen  from  the  Trades 
Unions  governing  the  principal  industries  of  Great 
Britain,  there  is  not  a  single  one  who  does  not  con- 
sider himself  eligible  for  the  post." 

Catherine  found  herself  suddenly  laughing,  while 
Fenn  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"I  cannot  help  it,"  she  apologised.  "Please  for- 
give me.  Do  not  think  that  I  am  irreverent.  It  is 
not  that  at  all.  But  for  a  moment  the  absurdity  of 
the  thing  overcame  me.     I  have  met  some  of  them. 


142  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

you    know — Mr.    Cross    of    Northumberland,    Mr. 
Evans  of  South  Wales — " 

"Evans  is  one  of  the  worst,"  Fenn  interrupted, 
with  some  excitement.  "There's  a  man  who  has 
only  worn  a  collar  for  the  last  few  years  of  his  life, 
who  evaded  the  board-school  because  he  was  a  pit- 
man's lad,  who  doesn't  even  know  the  names  of  the 
countries  of  Europe,  but  who  still  believes  that  he 
is  a  possible  candidate.  And  Cross,  too!  Well,  he 
washes  when  he  comes  to  London,  but  he  sleeps  in  his 
clothes  and  they  look  like  it." 

"He  is  very  eloquent,"  Catherine  observed. 

"Eloquent !"  Fenn  exclaimed  scornfully.  "He 
may  be,  but  who  can  understand  him.''  He  speaks  in 
broad  Northumbrian.  What  is  needed  in  the  leader 
whom  they  are  to  elect  this  week.  Miss  Abbeway,  is 
a  man  of  some  culture  and  some  appearance.  Re- 
member that  to  him  is  to  be  confided  the  greatest 
task  ever  given  to  man.  A  certain  amount  of  per- 
sonality he  must  have — personality  and  dignity,  I 
should  say,  to  uphold  the  position." 

"There  is  Mr.  Miles  Furley,"  she  said  thought- 
fully.    "He  is  an  educated  man,  is  he  not.'"' 

"For  that  very  reason  unsuitable,"  Fenn  explained 
eagerly.  "He  represents  no  great  body  of  toilers. 
He  is,  in  reality,  only  an  honorary  member  of  the 
Council,  like  yourself  and  the  Bishop,  there  on  ac- 
count of  his  outside  senices." 

"I  remember,  only  a  few  nights  ago,"  she  reflected. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  14S 

*'I  was  staying  at  a  country  house — ^Lord  Mal- 
tenby's,  by  the  bye — Mr.  Orden's  father.  The  Prime 
Minister  was  there  and  another  Cabinet  Minister. 
They  spoke  of  the  Labour  Party  and  its  leaderless 
state.  They  had  no  idea,  of  course,  of  the  great 
Council  which  was  already  secretly  formed,  but  they 
were  unanimous  about  the  necessity  for  a  strong 
leader.  Two  people  made  the  same  remark,  almost 
with  apprehension:  *If  ever  Paul  Fiske  should  ma- 
terialise, the  problem  would  be  solved !'  " 

Fenn  assented  without  enthusiasm. 

"After  all,  though,"  he  reminded  her,  "a  clever 
writer  does  not  alwaj^s  make  a  great  speaker,  nor 
has  he  always  that  personality  and  distinction  which 
is  required  in  this  case.  He  would  come  amongst 
us  a  stranger,  too — a  stranger  personally,  that  is  to 
say." 

"Not  in  the  broadest  sense  of  the  word,"  Catherine 
objected.  "Paul  Fiske  is  more  than  an  ordinary 
literarj'  man.  His  heart  is  in  tune  with  what  he 
writes.  Those  are  not  merely  eloquent  words  which 
he  offers.  There  is  a  note  of  something  above  and 
beyond  just  phrase-making — a  note  of  sympathetic 
understanding  which  amounts  to  genius." 

Her  companion  stroked  his  moustache  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"Fiske  goes  right  to  the  spot,"  he  admitted,  "but 
the  question  of  the  leadership,  so  far  as  he  is  con- 
cerned,  doesn't   come  into  the   sphere  of  practical 


144  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

politics.  It  has  been  suggested,  Miss  Abbeway,  by 
one  or  two  of  the  more  influential  delegates,  sug- 
gested, too,  by  a  vast  number  of  letters  and  telegrams 
which  have  poured  in  upon  us  during  the  last  few 
days,  that  I  should  be  elected  to  this  vacant  post.'* 

"You?"  she  exclaimed,  a  little  blankly. 

*'Can  you  think  of  a  more  suitable  person?"  he 
asked,  with  a  faint  note  of  truculence  in  his  tone. 
*'You  have  seen  us  all  together.  I  don't  wish  to  flat- 
ter myself,  but  as  regards  education,  service  to  the 
cause,  familiarity  with  public-speaking  and  the  num- 
ber of  those  I  represent — " 

"Yes,  yes !  I  see,"  she  interrupted.  "Taking  the 
twenty  Labour  representatives  onl}-,  Mr.  Fenn,  I  can 
see  nothing  against  your  selection,  but  I  fancied, 
somehow,  that  some  one  outside — the  Bishop,  for  in- 
stance— " 

"Absolutely  out  of  the  question,"  Fenn  declared. 
"The  people  would  lose  faith  in  the  whole  thing  in  a 
minute.  The  person  who  throws  down  the  gage  to 
the  Prime  Minister  must  have  the  direct  mandate  of 
the  people." 

They  finished  dinner  presently.  Fenn  looked  with 
admiration  at  the  gold,  coroneted  case  from  which 
Catherine  helped  herself  to  one  of  her  tiny  cigarettes. 
He  himself  lit  an  American  cigarette. 

"I  had  meant,  Miss  Abbeway,"  he  confided,  leaning 
towards  her,  "to  suggest  a  theatre  to  you  to-night — 
in  fact,  I  looked  at  some  dress  circle  seats  at  the 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  145 

Gaiety  with  a  view  to  purchasing.  Another  matter 
has  cropped  up,  however.  There  is  a  little  business 
for  us  to  do." 

"Business.'*"  Catherine  repeated. 

He  produced  a  folded  paper  from  his  pocket  and 
passed  it  across  the  table.  Catherine  read  it  with  a 
slight  frown. 

"An  order  entitling  the  bearer  to  search  Julian 
Orden's  apartments !"  she  exclaimed.  "We  don't 
want  to  search  them,  do  we?  Besides,  what  author- 
ity have  wo?" 

"The  best,"  he  answered,  tapping  with  his  dis- 
coloured forefinger  the  signature  at  the  foot  of  the 
strip  of  paper. 

She  examined  it  with  a  doubtful  frown. 

"But  how  did  this  come  into  your  possession?" 
she  asked. 

He  smiled  at  her  in  superior  fashion.  "^ 

"By  asking  for  it,"  he  replied  bluntly.  "And  be- 
tween you  and  me.  Miss  Abbeway,  there  isn't  much  we 
might  ask  for  that  they'd  care  to  refuse  us  just 
now." 

"But  the  police  have  already  searched  Mr.  Orden's 
rooms,"  she  reminded  him. 

"The  police  have  been  known  to  overlook  things. 
Of  course,  what  I  am  hoping  is  that  amongst  Mr. 
Orden's  papers  there  may  be  some  indication  as  to 
where  he  has  deposited  our  property." 

"But  this  has  nothing  to  do  with  me,"  she  pro- 


146  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

tested.  "I  do  not  like  to  be  concerned  in  such  af- 
fairs." 

"But  I  particularly  wish  3'ou  to  accompany  me," 
he  urged.  "You  are  the  only  one  who  has  seen  the 
packet.  It  would  be  better,  therefore,  if  we  con- 
ducted the  search  in  company." 

Catherine  made  a  little  grimace,  but  she  objected 
no  further.  She  objected  very  strongly,  however, 
when  Fenn  tried  to  take  her  arm,  on  leaving  the 
place,  and  she  withdrew  into  her  own  corner  of  the 
taxi  immediately  they  had  taken  their  seats. 

"You  must  forgive  my  prejudices,  Mr.  Fenn,"  she 
said-^"my  foreign  bringing  up,  perhaps — but  I  hate 
being  touched." 

"Oh,  come !"  he  remonstrated.  "No  need  to  be  so 
stand-offish." 

He  tried  to  hold  her  hand,  an  attempt  which  she 
skilfully  frustrated. 

"Really,"  she  insisted  earnestly,  "this  sort  of  thing 
does  not  amuse  me.  I  avoid  it  even  amongst  my  own 
friends." 

"Am  I  not  a  friend.''"  he  demanded. 

"So  far  as  regards  our  work,  you  certainly  are," 
she  admitted.  "Outside  it,  I  do  not  think  that  we 
could  ever  have  much  to  say  to  one  another." 

"Why  not?"  he  objected,  a  little  sharply.  "We're 
as  close  together  in  our  work  and  aims  as  any  two 
people  could  be.  Perhaps,"  he  went  on,  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation   and  a   careful  glance  around,  "I 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  147 

ought  to  take  you  into  my  confidence — as  regards 
my  personal  position." 

"I  am  not  inviting  anj'thing  of  tlie  sort,"  she  ob- 
served, with  faint  but  wasted  sarcasm. 

"You  know  me,  of  course,"  he  went  on,  "only  as 
the  late  manager  of  a  firm  of  timber  merchants  and 
the  present  elected  representative  of  the  allied  Tim- 
ber and  Shipbuilding  Trades  Unions.  What  you 
do  not  know" — a  queer  note  of  triumph  stealing  into 
his  tone — "is  that  I  am  a  wealthy  man." 

She  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"I  imagined,"  she  remarked,  "that  all  Labour  lead- 
ers were  like  the  Apostles — took  no  thought  for  such 
things." 

"One  must  always  keep  one's  eye  on  the  main 
chance.  Miss  Abbeway,"  he  protested,  "or  how  would 
things  be  when  one  came  to  think  of  marriage,  for 
instance?" 

*'Where  did  your  money  come  from.'"'  she  asked 
bluntly. 

Her  question  was  framed  simpl}'  to  direct  him  from 
a  repulsive  subject.  His  embarrassment,  however, 
afforded  her  food  for  future  thought. 

"I  have  saved  money  all  my  life,"  he  confided 
eagerly.  "An  uncle  loft  me  a  little.  Lately  I  have 
speculated — successfully.  I  don't  want  to  dwell  on 
this.  I  only  wanted  you  to  understand  that  if  I 
chose  I  could  cut  a  very  different  figure — that  my 
wife  wouldn't  have  to  live  in  a  suburb." 


148  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"I  really  do  not  see,"  was  the  cold  response,  "how 
this  concerns  me  in  the  least." 

"You  call  yourself  a  Socialist,  don't  you,  Miss  Ab- 
beway?"  he  demanded.  "You're  not  allowing  the 
fact  that  you're  an  aristocrat  and  that  I  am  a  self- 
made  man  to  weigh  with  you'"' 

"The  accident  of  birth  counts  for  nothing,"  she 
replied — "you  must  know  that  those  are  ray  prin- 
ciples— but  it  sometimes  happens  that  birth  and  en- 
vironment give  one  tastes  which  it  is  impossible  to 
ignore.  Please  do  not  let  us  pursue  this  conversa- 
tion any  further,  Mr.  Fenn.  We  have  had  a  very 
pleasant  dinner,  for  which  I  thank  you — and  here 
we  are  at  Mr.  Ordcn's  flat." 

Her  companion  handed  her  out  a  little  sulkily,  and 
they  ascended  in  the  lift  to  the  fifth  floor.  The  door 
was  opened  to  them  by  Julian's  servant.  He  rec- 
ognised Catherine  and  greeted  her  respectfully. 
Fenn  produced  his  authority,  which  the  man  accepted 
without  comment. 

"No  news  of  your  master  yet.''"  Catherine  asked 
him. 

"None  at  all,  madam,"  was  the  somewhat  depressed 
admission.  "I  am  afraid  that  something  must  have 
happened  to  him.  He  was  not  the  kind  of  gentleman 
to  go  away  like  this  and  leave  no  word  behind  him." 

"Still,"  she  advised  cheerfully,  "I  shouldn't  de- 
spair. More  wonderful  things  have  happened  than 
that  vour  master  should  return  home  to-morrow  or 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  149 

the  next  day  with  a  perfectly  simple  explanation  of 
his  absence." 

"I  should  be  very  glad  to  see  him,  madam,"  the 
man  replied,  as  he  backed  towards  the  door.  "If 
I  can  be  of  any  assistance,  perhaps  you  will 
ring." 

The  valet  departed,  closing  the  door  behind  him. 
Catherine  looked  around  the  room  into  which  they 
had  been  ushered,  with  a  little  frown.  It  was  es- 
sentially a  man's  sitting  room,  but  it  was  well  and 
tastefully  furnished,  and  she  was  astonished  at  the 
immense  number  of  books,  pamphlets  and  Reviews 
whi-ch  crowded  the  walls  and  every  available  space. 
The  Derby  desk  still  stood  open,  there  was  a  type- 
writer on  a  special  stand,  and  a  pile  of  manuscript 
paper. 

"What  on  earth,"  she  murmured,  "could  Mr.  Orden 
have  wanted  with  a  t3'pewriter!  I  thought  journal- 
ism was  generally  done  in  the  offices  of  a  newspaper 
— the  sort  of  journalism  that  he  used  to  under- 
take." 

"Nice  little  crib,  isn't  it?"  Fenn  remarked,  glanc- 
ing around.     "Cosy  little  place,  I  call  it." 

Something  in  the  man's  expression  as  he  advanced 
towards  her  brought  all  the  iciness  back  to  her  tone 
and  manner. 

"It  is  a  pleasant  apartment,"  she  said,  "but  I  am 
not  at  all  sure  that  I  like  being  here,  and  I  certainly 
.Vifiliki  our  errand.     It  does  not  seem  credible  that, 


150  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

if  the  police  have  already  searched,  we  should  find  the 
packet  here." 

**The  police  don't  know  what  to  look  for,"  he  re- 
minded her.     "We  do." 

There  was  apparently  very  little  delicacy  about 
Mr.  Fenn.  He  drew  a  chair  to  the  desk  and  began 
to  look  through  a  pile  of  papers,  making  running 
comments  as  he  did  so. 

"Hm!  Our  friend  seems  to  have  been  quite  a 
collector  of  old  books.  I  expect  second-hand  book- 
sellers found  him  rather  a  mark. — Some  fellow  here 
thanking  him  for  a  loan. — And  here's  a  tailor's  bill. — 
By  Jove,  Miss  Abbeway,  just  listen  to  this!  *One 
dress  suit — fourteen  guineas  !'  That's  the  way  these 
fellows  who  don't  knmv  an^^  better  chuck  their  money 
about,"  he  added,  swinging  around  in  his  chair  to- 
wards her.  "The  clothes  I  have  on  cost  me  exactly 
four  pounds  fifteen  cash,  and  I  guarantee  his  were 
no  better." 

Catherine  frowned  impatiently. 

"We  did  not  come  here,  did  we,  Mr.  Fenn,  to  dis- 
cuss Mr.  Orden's  tailor's  bill?  I  can  see  no  object 
at  all  in  going  through  his  correspondence  in  this 
way.  What  you  have  to  search  for  is  a  packet 
wrapped  up  in  thin  yellow  oilskin,  with  'Number  17' 
on  the  outside  in  black  ink." 

"Oh,  he  might  have  slipped  it  in  anywhere,"  Fenn 
pointed  out.  "Besides,  there's  always  a  chance  that 
one  of  his  letters  may  give  us  a  clue  as  to  where  he 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  151 

has  hidden  the  document.  Come  and  sit  down  by 
the  side  of  me,  won't  you,  Miss  Abbeway  ?     Do !" 

"I  'would  rather  stand,  thank  you,"  she  replied. 
"You  seem  to  find  your  present  occupation  to  your 
taste.     I  should  loathe  it !" 

"Never  think  of  my  own  feelings,"  Fenn  said 
briskly,  "when  there's  a  job  to  be  done.  I  wish 
you'd  be  a  bit  more  friendly,  though.  Miss  Abbe- 
way. Let  me  pull  that  chair  up  by  the  side  of  mine. 
I  like  to  have  you  near.  You  know,  I've  been  a 
bachelor  for  a  good  many  years,"  he  went  on  im- 
pressively, "but  a  little  homey  place  like  this  always 
makes  me  think  of  things.  I've  nothing  against  mar- 
riage if  only  a  man  can  be  lucky  enough  to  get  the 
right  sort  of  girl,  and  athough  advanced  thinkers 
like  you  and  me  and  some  of  the  others  are  looking 
at  things  differently,  nowadays,  I  wouldn't  mind 
much  which  way  it  was,"  he  confided,  dropping  his 
voice  a  little  and  laying  his  hand  upon  her  arm,  "if 
you  could  make  up  your  mind — " 

She  snatched  her  arm  away,  and  this  time  even 
he  could  not  mistake  the  anger  which  blazed  in  her 
eyes. 

"Mr.  Fenn,"  she  exclaimed,  "why  is  it  so  difficult 
to  make  you  understand.''  I  detest  such  liberties  as 
you  are  permitting  yourself.  And  for  the  rest,  my 
affections  are  already  engaged." 

"Sounds  a  bit  old-fashioned,  that,"  he  remarked, 
scowling  a  little.     "Of  course,  I  don't  expect — " 


162  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"Never  mind  what  you  expect,"  she  interrupted. 
"Please  go  on  with  this  search,  if  you  are  going  to 
make  one  at  all.  The  vulgarity  of  the  whole  thing 
annoys  me,  and  I  do  not  for  a  moment  suppose  that 
the  packet  is  here." 

"It  wasn't  on  Orden,"  he  reminded  her  sullenly. 

"Then  he  must  have  sent  it  somewhere  for  safe 
keeping,"  she  replied.  "I  had  already  given  him 
cause  to  do  so." 

"If  he  has,  then  amongst  his  correspondence  there 
may  be  some  indication  as  to  where  he  sent  it,"  Fenn 
pointed  out,  with  unabated  ill-temper.  "If  you 
don't  like  the  job,  and  you  won't  be  friendly,  you'd 
better  take  the  easy-chair  and  wait  till  I'm  through." 

She  sat  down,  watching  him  with  angry  eyes,  un- 
comfortable, unhappy,  humiliated.  She  seemed  to 
have  dropped  in  a  few  hours  from  the  realms  of 
rarified  and  splendid  thought  to  a  world  of  petty 
deeds.  Not  one  of  her  companion's  actions  was  lost 
upon  her.  She  watched  him  study  with  ill-concealed 
reverence  a  ducal  invitation,  saw  him  read  through 
without  hesitation  a  letter  which  she  felt  sure  was 
from  Julian's  mother.     And  then — 

The  change  in  the  man  was  so  startling,  his  mut- 
tered exclamation  so  natural  that  its  profanity 
never  even  grated.  His  eyes  seemed  to  be  starting 
out  of  his  head,  his  lips  were  drawn  back  from  his 
teeth.  Blank,  unutterable  surprise  held  him,  dumb 
and  spellbound,  as  he  stared  at  a  half-sheet  of  type- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  163 

written  notepaper.  She  herself,  amazed  at  his  trans- 
formed appearance,  found  words  for  the  moment  im- 
possible. Then  a  queer  change  came  into  his  ex- 
pression. His  eyebrows  drew  closer  together,  his 
lips  turned  malevolently.  He  pushed  the  paper  un- 
derneath a  pile  of  others  and  turned  his  head  to- 
wards her.  Their  eyes  met.  There  was  something 
like  fear  in  his. 

"What  is  it  that  you  have  found.'"'  she  cried 
breathlessly. 

"Nothing,"  he  answered,  "nothing  of  any  import- 
ance." 

She  rose  slowly  to  her  feet  and  came  towards  him. 

"I  a-m  your  partner  in  this  hateful  enterprise," 
she  reminded  him.  "Show  me  that  paper  which  j'ou 
have  just  concealed." 

He  laid  his  hand  on  the  lid  of  the  desk,  but  she 
caught  it  and  held  it  open. 

"I  insist  upon  seeing  it,"  she  said  firmly. 

He  turned  and  faced  her.  There  was  a  most  un- 
pleasant light  in  his  eyes. 

"And  I  say  that  you  shall  not,"  he  declared. 

There  was  a  brief,  intense  silence.  Each  seemed 
to  be  measuring  the  other's  strength.  Of  the  two, 
Catherine  was  the  more  composed.  Fenn's  face  was 
still  white  and  strained.  His  lips  were  twitching, 
his  manner  nervous  and  jerky.  He  made  a  des- 
perate effort  to  reestablish  ordinary  relations. 

"Look  here.  Miss  Abbeway,"  he  said,  "we  don't 


164  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

need  to  quarrel  about  this.  That  paper  I  came 
across  has  a  special  interest  for  me  personally.  I 
want  to  think  about  it  before  I  say  anything  to  a 
soul  in  the  world." 

"You  can  consult  with  me,"  she  persisted.  "Our 
aims  are  the  same.  We  are  here  for  the  same  pur- 
pose." 

"Not  altogether,"  he  objected.  "I  brought  you 
here  as  my  assistant." 

"Did  you?" 

"Well,  have  the  truth,  then!"  he  exclaimed.  "I 
brought  you  here  to  be  alone  with  you,  because  I 
hoped  that  I  might  find  you  a  little  kinder." 

"I  am  afraid  you  have  been  disappointed,  haven't 
you?"  she  asked  sweetly. 

"I  have,"  he  answered,  with  unpleasant  meaning 
in  his  tone,  "but  we  are  not  out  of  here  yet." 

"You  cannot  frighten  me,"  she  assured  him.  "Of 
course,  you  are  a  man — of  a  sort — and  I  am  a 
woman,  but  I  do  not  fancy  that  you  would  find,  if  it 
came  to  force,  that  you  would  have  much  of  an 
advantage.  However,  we  are  wandering  from  the 
point.  I  claim  an  equal  right  with  you  to  see  any- 
thing which  you  may  discover  in  Mr.  Orden's  pa- 
pers. I  might,  indeed,  if  I  chose,  claim  a  prior 
right." 

"Indeed?"  he  answered,  with  an  ugly  scowl  on  his 
face.  "Mr.  Julian  Orden  is  by  way  of  being  a  par- 
ticular friend,  eh?" 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  165 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  Catherine  told  him,  "we 
are  engaged  to  be  married.  It  isn't  a  serioujs  en- 
gagement. It  was  entered  into  by  him  in  a  most 
chivalrous  manner,  to  save  me  from  the  consequences 
of  a  very  clumsy  attempt  on  my  part  to  get  back 
that  packet.  But  there  it  is.  Every  one  down  at 
his  home  believes  at  the  present  moment  that  we  are 
engaged  and  that  I  have  come  up  to  London  to  see 
our  Ambassador." 

"If  you  are  engaged,"  Fenn  sneered,  "why  hasn't 
he  told  you  more  of  his  secrets?" 

"Secrets !"  she  repeated,  a  little  scornfully.  "I 
shouldn't  think  he  has  any.  I  should  imagine  his 
daily  life  could  be  investigated  without  the  least 
fear." 

"You'd  imagine  wrong,  then." 

"But  how  interesting!  You  excite  my  curiosity. 
And  must  you  continue  to  hold  my  wrist?" 

"Let  me  pull  down  the  top  of  this  desk,  then." 

"No !" 

"Why  not?" 

*'I  intend  to  examine  those  papers." 

With  a  quick  movement  he  gained  a  momentary 
advantage  and  shut  the  desk  down.  The  key,  how- 
ever, disturbed  by  the  jerk,  fell  on  to  the  carpet,  and 
Catherine  possessed  herself  of  it.  She  sprang 
lightly  back  from  him  and  pressed  the  bell. 

"D — n  you,  what  are  you  going  to  do  now.?"  he 
demanded. 


156  THE  DEVIL'S  PAWi 

"You  will  see,"  she  replied.  "Don't  come  any 
nearer,  or  you  may  find  that  I  can  be  unpleasant." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  waited.  She 
turned  towards  the  servant  who  presently  appeared. 

"Robert,"  she  said,  "will  you  telephone  for  me.'"' 

"Certainly,  madam,"  the  man  answered. 

"Telephone  to  1884  Westminster.  Say  that  you 
are  speaking  for  Miss  Abbeway,  and  ask  Mr.  Furley, 
Mr.  Cross,  or  whoever  is  there,  to  come  at  once  to 
this  address." 

"Look  here,  there's  no  sense  in  that,"  Fenn  in- 
terrupted. 

"Will  you  do  as  I  ask,  please,  Robert?"  she  per- 
sisted. 

The  man  bowed  and  left  the  room.  Fenn  strode 
sulkily  back  to  the  desk. 

"Very  well,  then,"  he  conceded,  "I  give  in.  Give 
me  the  key,  and  I'll  show  you  the  letter." 

"You  intend  to  keep  your  word.'"' 

"I  do,"  he  assured  her. 

She  held  out  the  key.  He  took  it,  opened  the 
desk,  searched  amongst  the  little  pile  of  papers, 
;lrew  out  the  half-sheet  of  notepaper,  and  handed  it 
\o  her. 

"There  you  are,"  he  said,  "although  if  you  are 
/eally  engaged  to  marry  Mr.  Julian  Orden,"  he 
added,  with  disagreeable  emphasis,  "I  am  surprised 
that  he  should  have  kept  such  a  secret  from  you." 

She  ignored  him  and  started  to  read  the  letter, 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  157 

glancing  first  at  the  address  at  the  top.  It  was 
from  the  British  Review,  and  was  dated  a  few  days 
back : — 

My  dear  Orden, 

I  think  it  best  to  let  you  know,  in  case  you  haven't 
seen  it  yourself,  that  there  is  a  reward  of  £100  of- 
fered by  some  busybody  for  the  name  of  the  author 
of  the  'Paul  Fiske'  articles.  Your  anonymity  has 
been  splendidly  preserved  up  till  now,  but  I  feel  com- 
pelled to  warn  you  that  a  disclosure  is  imminent. 
Take  my  advice  and  accept  it  with  a  good  grace. 
You  have  established  yourself  so  irrevocably  now 
that  the  value  of  your  work  will  not  be  lessened  by 
the  discovery  of  the  fact  that  you  yourself  do  not 
belong  to  the  class  of  whom  you  have  written  so 
brilliantly. 

I  hope  to  see  you  in  a  few  days. 

Sincerely, 

M.  Halkin. 

Even  after  she  had  concluded  the  letter,  she  still 
stared  at  it.  She  read  again  the  one  conclusive 
sentence — "Your  anonymity  has  been  splendidly  pre- 
served up  till  now."  Then  she  suddenly  broke  into 
a  laugh  which  was  almost  hysterical. 

"So  this  is  his  hack  journalism!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Julian  Orden— Paul  Fiske!" 

"I  don't  wonder  you're  surprised,"  Fenn  observed. 
"Fourteen  guineas  for  a  dress  suit,  and  he  thinks  he 
understands  the  working  man !" 

She  turned  her  head  slowly  and  looked  at  him. 


168  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

Tliere   was    a   strange,   repressed   fire   in  her  eyes. 

"You  are  a  very  foolish  person,"  she  said.  "Your 
parents,  I  suppose,  were  small  shopkeepers,  or  some- 
thing of  the  sort,  and  you  were  brought  up  at  a 
board-school — and  Julian  Orden  at  Eton  and  Ox- 
ford, and  yet  he  understands,  and  you  do  not.  You 
see,  heart  counts,  and  sympathy,  and  the  flair  for 
understanding.  I  doubt  whether  these  things  are 
really  found  where  you  come  from." 

He  caught  up  his  hat.  His  face  was  very  white. 
His  tone  shook  with  anger. 

"This  is  our  own  fault,"  he  exclaimed  angrily,  "for 
having  ever  permitted  an  aristocrat  to  hold  any 
place  in  our  counsels  1  Before  we  move  a  step  fur- 
ther, we'll  purge  them  of  such  helpers  as  you  and 
such  false  friends  as  Julian  Orden." 

"You  very  foolish  person,"  she  repeated.  "Stop, 
though.  Why  all  this  mystery.''  Why  did  you  try 
to  keep  that  letter  from  me?" 

"I  conceived  it  to  be  for  the  benefit  of  our  cause," 
he  said  didactically,  "that  the  anonymity  of  'Paul 
Fiske'  should  be  preserved." 

"Rubbish!"  she  scoffed.  "You  were  afraid  of 
him.  Why,  what  fools  we  are!  We  will  tell  him 
the  whole  truth.  We  will  tell  him  of  our  great 
scheme.  We  will  tell  him  what  we  have  been  work- 
ing for,  these  many  months.  The  Bishop  shall  tell 
him,  and  you  and  I,  and  Miles  Furley,  and  Cross. 
He   shall  hear  all   about   it.     He  is  with  us!     He 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  159 

must  be  with  us !  You  shall  put  him  on  the  Council. 
Why,  there  is  your  great  difficulty  solved,"  she  went 
on,  in  growing  excitement.  "There  is  not  a  work- 
ing man  in  the  country  who  would  not  rally  under 
'Paul  Fiske's'  banner.  There  you  have  your  leader. 
It  is  he  who  shall  deliver  your  ultimatum.'* 

"I'm  damned  if  it  is!"  Fenn  declared,  suddenly 
throwing  his  hat  down  and  coming  towards  her 
furiously,     "I'm — " 

The  door  opened.     Robert  stood  there. 

"The  message,  madam,"  he  began — and  then 
stopped  short.     She  crossed  the  room  towards  him. 

"Robert,"  she  said,  "I  think  I  have  found  the  way 
to  bring  y^our  master  back  to  you.  Will  you  take 
me  downstairs,  please,  and  fetch  me  a  taxi?" 

"Certainly,  madam!" 

She  looked  back  from  the  threshold. 

"I  shall  telephone  to  Westminster  in  a  few  min- 
utes, Mr.  Fenn,"  she  said.  "I  hope  I  shall  be  in 
time  to  stop  the  others  from  coming.  Perhaps  you 
had  better  wait  here,  in  case  they  have  already 
started." 

He  made  no  reply.  To  Catherine  the  world  had 
become  so  wonderful  that  his  existence  scarcely 
counted. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Catherine,  notwithstanding  her  own  excitement, 
found  genuine  pleasure  in  the  bewildered  enthusiasm 
with  which  the  Bishop  received  her  astounding  news. 
She  found  him  alone  in  the  great,  gloomy  house 
which  he  usually  inhabited  when  in  London,  at  work 
in  a  dreary  library  to  which  she  was  admitted  after 
a  few  minutes'  delay.  Naturally,  he  received  her  tid- 
ings at  first  almost  with  incredulity.  A  heartfelt 
joy,  however,  followed  upon  conviction. 

"I  always  liked  Julian,"  he  declared.  "I  always 
believed  that  he  had  capacity.  Dear  me,  though," 
he  went  on,  with  a  whimsical  little  smile,  "what  a 
blow  for  the  Earl !" 

Catherine  laughed. 

"Do  you  remember  the  evening  we  all  talked  about 
the  Labour  question?  Time  seems  to  have  moved  so 
rapidly  lately,  but  it  was  scarcely  a  week  ago." 

"I  remember,"  the  Bishop  acknowledged.  "And, 
my  dear  young  lady,"  he  went  on  warmly,  "now  in- 
deed I  feel  that  I  can  offer  you  congratulations 
which  come  from  my  heart." 

She  turned  a  little  away. 

*'Don't,"   she  begged.     "You  would  have  known 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  161 

very  soon,  in  any  case — my  engagement  to  Julian 
Orden  was  only  a  pretence." 

"A  pretence?" 

"I  was  desperate,"  she  explained.  "I  felt  X  must 
have  that  packet  back  at  any  price.  I  went  to  his 
rooms  to  try  and  steal  it.  Well,  I  was  found  there. 
He  invented  our  engagement  to  help  me  out." 

"But  you  went  oflp  to  London  together,  the  next 
day?"  the  Bishop  reminded  her. 

"It  was  all  part  of  the  game,"  she  sighed.  "What 
a  fool  he  must  have  thought  me !  However,  I  am 
glad.  I  am  riotously,  madly  glad.  I  am  glad  for 
the  cause,  I  am  glad  for  all  our  sakes.  We  have  a 
great  recruit,  Bishop,  the  greatest  we  could  have. 
And  think !  When  he  knows  the  truth,  there  will  be 
no  more  trouble.  He  will  hand  us  over  the  packet. 
We  shall  know  just  where  we  stand.  We  shall  know 
at  once  whether  we  dare  to  strike  the  great  blow." 

"I  was  down  at  Westminster  this  afternoon,"  the 
Bishop  told  her.  "The  whole  mechanism  of  the 
Council  of  Labour  seems  to  be  complete.  Twenty 
men  control  industrial  England.  They  have  abso- 
lute power.  They  are  waiting  only  for  the  missing 
word.  And  fancy,"  he  went  on,  "to-morrow  I  was  to 
have  visited  Julian.  I  was  to  have  used  my  per- 
suasions." 

"But  we  must  go  to-night !"  Catherine  exclaimed. 
"There  is  no  reason  why  we  should  waste  a  single 
second." 


162  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"I  shall  be  only  too  pleased,"  he  assented  gladly. 
"Where  is  he?" 

Catherine's  face  fell. 

*'I  haven't  the  least  idea,"  she  confessed.  "Don't 
you  know?" 

The  Bishop  shook  his  head. 

"They  were  going  to  send  some  one  with  me  to- 
morrow," he  replied,  "but  in  any  case  Fenn  knows. 
We  can  get  at  him." 

She  made  a  little  wry  face. 

"I  do  not  like  Mr.  Fenn,"  she  said  slowly.  "I 
have  disagreed  with  him.  But  that  does  not  matter. 
Perhaps  we  had  better  go  to  the  Council  rooms.  We 
shall  find  some  of  them  there,  and  probably  Fenn. 
I  have  a  taxi  waiting." 

They*  drove  presently  to  Westminster.  The 
ground  floor  of  the  great  building,  which  was  wholly 
occupied  now  by  the  offices  of  the  different  Labour 
men,  was  mostly  in  darkness,  but  on  the  top  floor  was 
a  big  room  used  as  a  club  and  restaurant,  and  also 
for  informal  meetings.  Six  or  seven  of  the  twenty- 
three  were  there,  but  not  Fenn.  Cross,  a  great 
brawny  Northumbrian,  was  playing  a  game  of  chess 
with  Furley.  Others  were  writing  letters.  They  all 
turned  around  at  Catherine's  entrance.  She  held  out 
her  hands  to  them. 

"Great  news,  my  friends !"  she  exclaimed.  "Light 
up  the  committee  room.     I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

Those  who  were  entitled  to  followed  her  into  the 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  163 

room  across  the  passage.  One  or  two  secretaries 
and  a  visitor  remained  outside.  Six  of  them  seated 
themselves  at  the  long  table — Phineas  Cross,  the 
Northumbrian  pitman,  Miles  Furley,  David  Sands, 
representative  of  a  million  Yorkshire  mill-hands, 
Thomas  Evans,  the  South  Wales  miner. 

"We  got  a  message  from  you,  Miss  Abbeway,  a  lit- 
tle time  ago,"  Furley  remarked.  "It  was  counter- 
manded, though,  just  as  we  were  ready  to  start." 

"Yes !"  she  assented.  "I  am  sorry.  I  telephoned 
from  Julian  Orden's  rooms.  It  was  there  we  made 
the  great  discovery.  Listen,  all  of  you !  I  have 
discovered  the  identity  of  Paul  Fiske." 

There  was  a  little  clamour  of  voices.  The  inter- 
est was  indescribable.  Paul  Fiske  was  their  cult, 
their  master,  their  undeniable  prophet.  It  was  he 
who  had  set  down  in  letters  of  fire  the  truths  which 
had  been  struggling  for  imperfect  expression  in  these 
men's  minds.  It  was  Paul  Fiske  who  had  fired  them 
with  enthusiasm  for  the  cause  which  at  first  had 
been  very  much  like  a  matter  of  bread  and  cheese  to 
them.  It  was  Paul  Fiske  who  had  formed  their 
minds,  who  had  put  the  great  arguments  into  their 
brains,  who  had  armed  them  from  head  to  foot  with 
potent  reasonings.  Four  very  ordinary  men,  of 
varj'ing  types,  sincere  men,  all  of  plebeian  extraction, 
all  with  their  faults,  yet  all  united  in  one  purpose, 
were  animated  by  that  same  fire  of  excitement.  They 
hung  over  the  table  towards  her.      She  might  have 


164  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

been  the  croupier  and  they  the  gamblers  who  had 
thrown  upon  the  table  their  last  stake. 

"In  Julian  Orden's  rooms,"  she  said,  "I  found  a 
letter  from  the  editor  of  the  British  Review,  warning 
him  that  his  anonymity  could  not  be  preserved  much 
longer — that  before  many  weeks  had  passed  the 
world  would  know  that  he  was  Paul  Fiske.  Here  is 
the  letter." 

She  passed  it  around.  They  studied  it,  one  by 
one.     They  were  all  a  little  stunned. 

"Julian !"  Furley  exclaimed,  in  blank  amazement. 
"Why,  he's  been  pulling  my  leg  for  more  than  a 
year !" 

"The  son  of  an  Earl !"  Cross  gasped. 

"Never  mind  about  that.  He  is  a  democrat  and 
honest  to  the  backbone,"  Catherine  declared.  "The 
Bishop  will  tell  you  so.  He  has  known  him  all  his 
life.  Think !  Julian  Orden  has  no  purpose  to  serve, 
no  selfish  interest  to  further.  He  has  nothing  to 
gain,  everything  to  lose.  If  he  were  not  sincere,  if 
those  words  of  his,  which  we  all  remember,  did  not 
come  from  his  heart,  where  could  be  the  excuse,  the 
reason,  for  what  he  stands  for.?  Think  what  it 
means  to  us !" 

"He  is  the  man,  isn't  he,"  Sands  asked  myster- 
iously, "whom  they  are  looking  after  down  yonder?" 

"I  don't  know  where  'down  yonder'  is,"  Catherine 
replied,  "but  you  have  him  in  3'our  power  somewhere. 
He  left  his  rooms  last  Thursday  at  about  a  quarter 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  165 

past  six,  to  take  that  packet  to  the  Foreign  Office, 
or  to  make  arrangements  for  its  being  received  there. 
He  never  reached  the  Foreign  Office.  He  hasn't 
been  heard  of  since.  Some  of  you  know  where  he 
is.  The  Bishop  and  I  want  to  go  and  find  him  at 
once." 

"Fenn  and  Bright  know,"  Cross  declared.  "It's 
Bright's  job." 

"^^^ly  is  Bright  in  it.'"'  Catherine  asked  impa- 
tiently. 

Cross  frowned  and  puckered  up  his  lips,  an  odd 
trick   of   his   when   he  was  displeased. 

"Bright  represents  the  workers  in  chemical  fac- 
tories," he  explained.  "They  say  that  there  isn't 
a  poison  in  liquid,  solid  or  gas  form,  that  he  doesn't 
know  all  about.  Chap  who  gives  me  kind  of  shivers 
whenever  he  comes  near.  He  and  Fenn  run  the  secret 
service  branch  of  the  Council." 

"If  he  knows  where  Mr.  Orden  is,  couldn't  we  send 
for  him  at  once.'"'  Catherine  suggested. 

"I'll  go,"  Furley  volunteered. 

He  was  back  in  a  few  minutes. 

"Fenn  and  Bright  are  both  out,"  he  announced, 
"and  their  rooms  locked  up.  I  rang  up  Fenn's 
house,  but  he  hasn't  been  back." 

Catherine  stamped  her  foot.  She  was  on  fire  with 
impatience. 

"Doesn't  it  seem  too  bad !"  she  exclaimed.  *'If  we 
could  only  get  hold  of  Julian  Orden  to-night,  if  the 


166  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

Bishop  and  I  could  talk  to  him  for  five  minutes,  we 
could  have  this  message  for  which  we  have  been  wait- 
ing so  long." 

The  door  was  suddenly  opened,  Fenn  entered  and 
received  a  little  chorus  of  welcome.  He  was  wearing 
a  rough  black  overcoat  over  his  evening  clothes,  and 
a  black  bowler  hat.  He  advanced  to  the  table  with 
a  little  familiar  swagger. 

"Mr.  Fenn,"  the  Bishop  said,  "we  have  been  await- 
ing your  arrival  anxiously.  Tell  us,  please,  where 
we  can  find  Mr.  Julian  Orden." 

Fenn  gave  vent  to  a  half-choked,  ironical  laugh. 

"If  you'd  asked  me  an  hour  ago,"  he  said,  "I 
should  have  told  you  to  try  Iris  Villa,  Acacia  Road, 
Hampstead.     I  have  just  come  from  there." 

"You  saw  him?"  the  Bishop  enquired. 

"That's  just  what  I  did  not,"  Fenn  replied. 

"Why  not?"   Catherine  demanded. 

"Because  he  wasn't  there — hasn't  been  since  three 
o'clock  this  afternoon." 

"You've  moved  him?"  Furley  asked  eagerly. 

"He's  moved  himself,"  was  the  grim  reply.  "He's 
escaped." 

During  the  brief,  spellbound  silence  which  fol- 
lowed his  announcement,  Fenn  advanced  slowly  into 
the  room.  It  chanced  that  during  their  informal 
discussion,  the  chair  at  the  head  of  the  table  had 
been  left  unoccupied.  The  newcomer  hesitated  for 
a  single  second,  then  removed  his  hat,  laid  it  on  the 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  167 

floor  by  his  side,  and  sank  into  the  vacant  seat.  He 
glanced  somewhat  defiantly  towards  Catherine.  He 
seemed  to  know  quite  well  from  whence  the  chal- 
lenge of  his  words  would  come. 

"You  tell  us,"  Catherine  said,  mastering  her  emo- 
tion with  an  effort,  "that  Julian  Orden,  whom  we 
now  know  to  be  'Paul  Fiske',  has  escaped.  Just 
what  do  you  mean?" 

"I  can  scarcely  reduce  my  statement  to  plainer 
words,"  Fenn  replied,  "but  I  will  try.  The  danger 
in  which  we  stood  through  the  miscarriage  of  that 
packet  was  appreciated  by  every  one  of  the  Council. 
Discretionary  powers  were  handed  to  the  small  secret 
service  branch  which  is  controlled  by  Bright  and 
myself.  Orden  was  prevented  from  reaching  the 
Foreign  Office  and  was  rendered  for  a  time  incap- 
able. The  consideration  of  our  further  action  with 
regard  to  him  was  to  depend  upon  his  attitude.  Ow- 
ing, no  doubt,  to  some  slight  error  in  B right's  treat- 
ment, Orden  has  escaped  from  the  place  of  safety 
in  which  he  had  been  placed.  He  is  now  at  large, 
and  his  story,  together  with  the  packet,  will  prob- 
ably be  in  the  hands  of  the  Foreign  Office  some  time 
to-night." 

''Giving  them,"  Cross  remarked  grimly,  "the 
chance  to  get  in  the  first  blow — warrants  for  high 
treason,  eh,  against  the  twenty-three  of  us?" 

"I  don't  fear  that,"  Fenn  asserted,  "not  if  we 
behave  like  sensible  men.     My  proposal  is  that  we 


168  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

anticipate,  that  one  of  us  sees  the  Prime  Minister 
to-morrow  morning  and  lays  the  whole  position  be- 
fore him." 

"Without  the  terms,"  Furley  observed. 

"I  know  exactly  what  they  will  be,"  Fenn  pointed 
out.  "The  trouble,  of  course,  is  that  the  missing 
packet  contains  the  signature  of  the  three  guar- 
antors. The  packet,  no  doubt,  will  be  in  the  hands 
of  the  Foreign  Office  by  to-morrow.  The  Prime  Min- 
ister can  verify  our  statements.  We  present  our 
ultimatum  a  little  sooner  than  we  intended,  but  we 
get  our  blow  in  first  and  we  are  read}'." 

The  Bishop  leaned  forward  in  his  place. 

"Forgive  me  if  I  intervene  for  one  moment,"  he 
begged.  "You  say  that  Julian  Orden  has  escaped. 
Are  we  to  understand  that  he  is  absolutely  at  lib- 
erty and  in  a  normal  state  of  health?" 

Fenn  hesitated  for  a  single  second. 

"I  have  no  reason  to  believe  the  contrary,"  he 
said. 

"Still,  it  is  possible,"  the  Bishop  persisted,  "that 
Julian  Orden  may  not  be  in  a  position  to  forward 
that  document  to  the  Foreign  Office  for  the  present? 
If  that  is  so,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  Prime 
Minister  would  consider  your  visit  a  bluff.  Cer- 
tainly, you  would  have  no  argument  weighty  enough 
to  induce  him  to  propose  the  armistice.  No  man 
could  act  upon  your  word  alone.  He  would  want 
to  see  these  wonderful  proposals  in  writing,  even  if 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  169 

he  were  convinced  of  the  justice  of  your  arguments." 

There  was  a  little  murmur  of  approval.  Fenn 
leaned  forward. 

"You  drive  me  to  a  further  disclosure,"  he  de- 
clared, after  a  moment's  hesitation,  "one,  perhaps, 
which  I  ought  already  to  have  made.  I  have  ar- 
ranged for  a  duplicate  of  that  packet  to  be  pre- 
pared and  forwarded.  I  set  this  matter  on  foot  the 
moment  we  heard  from  Miss  Abbeway  here  of  her 
mishap.  The  duplicate  may  reach  us  at  any  mo- 
ment." 

"Then  I  propose,"  the  Bishop  said,  "that  we  post- 
pone our  decision  until  those  papers  be  received. 
Remember  that  up  to  the  present  moment  the  Coun- 
cil have  not  pledged  themselves  to  take  action  until 
they  have  perused  that  document." 

"And  supposing,"  Fenn  objected,  "that  to-morrow 
morning  at  eight  o'clock,  twenty-three  of  us  are 
marched  off  to  the  Tower!  Our  whole  cause  may 
be  paralysed,  all  that  we  have  worked  for  all  these 
months  will  be  in  vain,  and  this  accursed  and  bloody 
war  may  be  dragged  on  until  our  politicians  see  fit 
to  make  a  peace  of  words." 

"I  know  Mr.  Stenson  well,"  the  Bishop  declared, 
**and  I  am  perfectly  convinced  that  he  is  too  sane- 
minded  a  man  to  dream  of  taking  such  a  step  as 
you  suggest.  He,  at  any  rate,  if  others  in  his 
Cabinet  are  not  so  prescient,  knows  what  Labour 
means." 


170  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW, 

"I  agree  with  the  Bishop,  for  many  reasons," 
Furlcy  pronounced. 

"And  I,"  Cross  echoed. 

The  sense  of  the  meeting  was  obvious.  Fenn's 
unpleasant  looking  teeth  flashed  for  a  moment,  and 
his  mouth  came  together  with  a  little  snap. 

"This  is  entirely  an  informal  gathering,"  he  said. 
"I  shall  summon  the  Council  to  come  together  to- 
morrow at  midday." 

"I  think  that  we  may  sleep  in  our  beds  to-night 
without  fear  of  molestation,"  the  Bishop  remarked, 
"although  if  it  had  been  the  wish  of  the  meeting,  I 
would  have  broached  the  matter  to  Mr.  Stenson." 

"You  are  an  honorary  member  of  the  Council," 
Fenn  declared  rudely.  "We  don't  wish  interference. 
This  is  a  national  and  international  Labour  move- 
ment." 

"I  am  a  member  of  the  Labour  Party  of  Christ," 
the  Bishop  said  quietly. 

**And  an  honoured  member  of  this  Executive  Coun- 
cil," Cross  intervened.  "You're  a  bit  too  glib  with 
your  tongue  to-night,  Fenn." 

"I  think  of  those  whom  I  represent,"  was  the  curt 
reply.  "They  are  toilers,  and  they  want  the  toil- 
ers to  show  their  power.  They  don't  want  help 
from  the  Church.  I'll  go  even  so  far,"  he  added, 
*'as  to  say  that  they  don't  want  help  from  literature. 
It's  their  own  job.  They've  begun  it,  and  they  want 
to  flnish  it." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  171 

*'To-morrow's  meeting,"  Furley  observed,  **will 
show  how  far  you  are  right  in  your  views.  I  con- 
sider my  position,  and  the  Bishop's,  as  members  of 
the  Labour  Party,  on  a  par  with  your  own.  I  will 
go  further  and  say  that  the  very  soul  of  our  Council 
is  embodied  in  the  teachings  and  the  writings  of 
Paul  Fiske,  or,  as  we  now  know  him  to  be,  Julian 
Orden." 

Fenn  rose  to  his  feet.  He  was  trembling  with  pas- 
sion. 

"This  informal  meeting  is  adjourned,"  he  an- 
nounced harshly. 

Cross  himself  did  not  move. 

"Adjourned  or  not  it  ma}'  be,  Mr.  Fenn,"  he  said, 
*'but  it's  no  place  of  yours  to  speak  for  it.  You've 
thrust  yourself  into  that  chair,  but  that  don't  make 
you  chairman,  now  or  at  any  other  time." 

Fenn  choked  down  the  words  which  had  seemed  to 
tremble  on  his  lips.  His  enemies  he  knew,  but  there 
were  others  here  who  might  yet  be  neutral. 

"If  I  have  assumed  more  than  I  should  have  done, 
I  am  sorry,"  he  said.  "I  brought  you  news  which 
I  was  in  a  hurrj'  to  deliver.     The  rest  followed." 

The  little  company  rose  to  their  feet  and  moved 
towards  the  door,  exchanging  whispered  comments 
concerning  the  news  which  Catherine  had  brought. 
She  herself  crossed  the  room  and  confronted  Fenn. 

"There  is  still  something  to  be  said  about  that 
news,"  she  declared. 


172  THE  DEVIL'S  PAWi 

Fenn's  attempt  at  complete  candour  was  only  par- 
tially convincing. 

"There  is  not  the  slightest  reason,"  he  declared, 
*'why  anything  concerning  Julian  Orden  should  be 
concealed  from  any  member  of  the  Council  who  de- 
sires information.  If  you  will  follow  me  into  my 
private  room,  Miss  Abbeway,  and  you,  Furley,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  tell  you  our  exact  position.  And  if 
the  Bishop  will  accompany  you,"  he  added,  turning 
to  the  latter,  "I  shall  be  honoured." 

Furley  made  no  reply,  but,  whispering  something 
in  Catherine's  ear,  took  up  his  hat  and  left  the 
room.  The  other  two,  however,  took  Fenn  at  his 
word,  followed  him  into  his  room,  accepted  the  chairs 
which  he  placed  for  them,  and  waited  while  he  spoke 
through  a  telephone  to  the  private  exchange  situated 
in  the  building. 

"They  tell  me,"  he  announced,  as  he  laid  down  the 
instrument,  "that  Bright  has  this  moment  returned 
and  is  now  on  his  way  upstairs." 

Catherine  shivered. 

"Is  Mr.  Bright  that  awful-looking  person  who 
came  to  the  last  Council  meeting?" 

"He  is  probably  the  person  you  mean,"  Fenn  as- 
sented. "He  takes  very  little  interest  in  our  execu- 
tive work,  but  he  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  sci- 
entists of  this  or  any  other  generation.  The  Gov- 
ernment has  already  given  him  three  laboratories  for 
his  experiments,  and  nearly  every  gas  that  is  being 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  17S 

used  at  the  Front  has  been  prepared  according  to 
his  formula." 

*'A   master  of   horrors,"   the  Bishop   murmured. 

"He  looks  it,"  Catherine  whispered  under  her 
breath. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  a  moment  or  two 
later,  and  Bright  entered.  He  was  a  little  over 
medium  height,  with  long  and  lanky  figure,  a  pro- 
nounced stoop,  and  black,  curly  hair  of  coarse  qual- 
ity. His  head,  which  was  thrust  a  little  forward, 
perhaps  owing  to  his  short-sightedness,  was  long,  his 
forehead  narrow,  his  complexion  a  sort  of  olive-green. 
He  wore  huge,  disfiguring  spectacles,  and  he  had  the 
protuberant  lips  of  a  negro.  He  greeted  Catherine 
and  the  Bishop  absently  and  seemed  to  have  a  griev- 
ance against  Fenn. 

"What  is  it  you  want,  Nicholas?"  he  asked  im- 
patiently. *'I  have  some  experiments  going  on  in 
the  country  and  can  only  spare  a  minute." 

"The  Council  has  rescinded  its  instructions  with 
regard  to  Julian  Orden,"  Fenn  announced,  "and  is 
anxious  to  have  him  brought  before  them  at  once. 
As  you  know,  we  are  for  the  moment  powerless  in 
the  matter.  Will  you  please  explain  to  Miss  Abbe- 
way  and  the  Bishop  here  just  what  has  been  done.''" 

"It  seems  a  waste  of  time,"  Bright  replied  ill- 
naturedly,  "but  here  is  the  story.  Julian  Orden 
left  his  rooms  at  a  quarter  to  six  on  Thursday  even- 
ing.    He   walked   down   to   St.   James's   Street   and 


174  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

turned  into  the  Park.  Just  as  he  passed  the  side 
door  of  Marlborough  House  he  was  attacked  by  a 
sudden  faintness — " 

"For  which,  I  suppose,"  the  Bishop  interrupted, 
"you  were  responsible." 

"I  or  my  deputy,"  Bright  replied.  "It  doesn't 
matter  which.  He  was  fortunate  enough  to  be  able 
to  hail  a  passing  taxicab  and  was  driven  to  my  house 
in  Hampstead.  He  has  spent  the  intervening  period, 
until  three  o'clock  this  afternoon,  in  a  small  labor- 
atory attached  to  the  premises." 

"A  compulsory  stay,  I  presume.'*"  the  Bishop  ven- 
tured. 

"A  compulsory  stay,  arranged  for  under  instruc- 
tions from  the  Council,"  Bright  assented,  in  his  hard, 
rasping  voice.  "He  has  been  most  of  the  time  un- 
der the  influence  of  some  new  form  of  anaesthetic  gas 
with  which  I  have  been  experimenting.  To-night, 
however,  I  must  have  made  a  mistake  in  my  calcula- 
tions. Instead  of  remaining  in  a  state  of  coma  until 
midnight,  he  recovered  during  my  absence  and  ap- 
pears to  have  walked  out  of  the  place." 

"You  have  no  idea  Avhere  he  is  at  the  present  mo- 
ment, then?"  Catherine  asked. 

"Not  the  slightest,"  Bright  assured  her.  "I  only 
know  that  he  left  the  place  without  hat,  gloves,  or 
walking  stick.  Otherwise,  he  was  fully  dressed,  and 
no  doubt  had  plenty  of  money  in  his  pocket." 

"Is  he  likely  to  have  any  return  of  the  indisposi- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  175 

tion  from  which,  owing  to  your  efforts,  he  has  been 
suffering?"    the    Bishop    enquired. 

"I  should  say  not,"  was  the  curt  answer.  "He 
may  find  his  memory  somewhat  affected  temporarily. 
He  ought  to  be  able  to  find  his  way  home,  though. 
If  not,  I  suppose  you'll  hear  of  him  through  the 
police  courts  or  a  hospital.  Nothing  that  we  have 
done,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "is  likely 
to  affect  his  health  permanently  in  the  slightest  de- 
gree." 

"You  now  know  all  that  there  is  to  be  known. 
Miss  Abbeway,"  Fenn  said.  "I  agree  with  you  that 
it  is  highly  desirable  that  Mr.  Orden  should  be  found 
at  once,  and  if  A'ou  can  suggest  any  way  in  which 
I  might  be  of  assistance  in  discovering  his  present 
whereabouts,  I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  help.  For 
instance,  would  you  like  me  to  telephone  to  his 
rooms?" 

Catherine  rose  to  her  feet. 

"Thank  you,  :Mr.  Fenn,"  she  said,  "I  don't  think 
that  we  will  trouble  3*ou.  Mr.  Furlej'  is  making  en- 
quiries both  at  Mr.  Orden's  rooms  and  at  his  clubs." 

"You  are  perfectly  satisfied,  so  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned, I  trust?"  he  persisted,  as  he  opened  the  door 
for  them. 

"Perfectly  satisfied,"  Catherine  replied,  looking 
him  in  the  face,  "that  you  have  told  us  as  much  as 
you  choose  to  for  the  present." 

Fenn  closed  the  door  behind   Catherine   and  the 


176  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW. 

Bishop  and  turned  back  into  the  room.  Bright 
laughed  at  him  unpleasantly. 

*'Love  affair  not  going  so  strong,  eh?" 

Fenn  threw  himself  into  his  cliair,  took  a  cigarette 
from  a  paper  packet,  and  lit  it. 

"Blast  Julian  Orden !"  he  muttered. 

"No  objection,"  his  friend  yawned.  "What's 
wrong  now?" 

"Haven't  you  heard  the  news?  It  seems  he's  tlie 
fellow  who  has  been  writing  those  articles  on  Social- 
ism and  Labour,  signing  them  'Paul  Fiske.'  Ideal- 
istic rubbish,  but  of  course  the  Bishop  and  his  lot 
are  raving  about  him." 

"I've  read  some  of  his  stuff,"  Bright  admitted, 
himself  lighting  a  cigarette ;  "good  in  its  way,  but 
old-fashioned.  I'm  out  for  something  a  little  more 
than  that." 

"Stick  to  the  point,"  Fenn  enjoined  morosely. 
"Now  they've  found  out  who  Julian  Orden  is,  they 
want  him  produced.  They  want  to  elect  him  on  the 
Council,  make  him  chairman  over  all  our  heads,  let 
him  reap  the  reward  of  the  scheme  which  our  brains 
have  conceived." 

"They  want  him,  eh?     That's  awkward." 

"Awkward  for  us,"  Fenn  muttered. 

*'They'd  better  have  him,  I  suppose,"  Bright  said, 
with  slow  and  evil  emphasis.  "Yes,  they'd  better 
have  him.  We'll  take  off  our  hats,  and  assure  him 
that  it  was  a  mistake." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  177 

"Too  late.  I've  told  Miss  Abbeway  and  the 
Bishop  that  he  is  at  large.     You  backed  me  up." 

Bright  thrust  his  long,  unpleasant,  knobby  fin- 
gers into  his  pocket,  and  produced  a  crumpled  ciga- 
rette, which  he  lit  from  the  end  of  his  companion's. 
-  "Well,"  he  demanded,  *Srhat  do  you  want?" 

"I  have  come  to  the  conclusion,"  Fenn  decided, 
"that  it  is  not  in  the  interests  of  our  cause  that 
Orden  should  become  associated  with  it  in  any  way." 

"We've  a  good  deal  of  power,"  Bright  ruminated, 
"but  it  seems  to  me  you're  inclined  to  stretch  it.  I 
gather  that  the  others  want  him  delivered  up.  We 
can't  act  against  them." 

"Not  if  they  know,"  Fenn  answered  significantly. 

Bright  came  over  to  the  mantelpiece,  leaned  his 
elbow  upon  it,  and  hung  his  extraordinarily  unat- 
tractive face  down  towards  his  companion's. 

"Nicholas,"  he  said,  "I  don't  blame  you  for  fenc- 
ing, but  I  like  plain  words.  You've  done  well  out  of 
this  new  Party.  I  haven't.  You've  no  hobby  except 
saving  your  money.  I  have.  My  last  two  experi- 
ments, notwithstanding  the  Government  allowance, 
have  left  me  drained.  I  need  money  as  you  others 
need  bread.  I  can  live  without  food  or  drink,  but 
I  can't  be  without  tlie  means  to  keep  my  laboratories 
going.     Do  you  understand  me?" 

"I  do,"  Fenn  assented,  taking  up  his  hat.  "Come, 
I'll  drive  towards  Bermondsey  with  you.  We'll  talk 
on  the  way." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Julian  raised  himself  slightly  from  his  recumbent 
position  at  the  sound  of  the  opening  of  the  door. 
He  watched  Fenn  with  dull,  incurious  eyes  as  the 
latter  crossed  the  uncarpeted  floor  of  the  bare 
wooden  shed,  threw  off  his  overcoat,  and  advanced 
towards  the  side  of  the  couch. 

"Sit  up  a  little,"  the  newcomer  directed. 

Julian  shook  his  head. 

"No  strength,"  he  muttered.  "If  I  had,  I  should 
wring  your  damned  neck  !" 

Fenn  looked  down  at  him  for  a  moment  in  silence. 

"You  take  this  thing  very  hardly,  Mr.  Orden," 
he  said.  "I  think  that  you  had  better  give  up  this 
obstinacy.  Your  friends  are  getting  anxious  about 
you.  For  many  reasons  it  would  be  better  for  you 
to  reappear." 

"There  will  be  a  little  anxiety  on  the  part  of  your 
friends  about  you,"  Julian  retorted  grimly,  "if  ever 
I  do  get  out  of  this  accursed  place." 

"You  bear  malice,  I  fear,  Mr.  Orden." 

Julian  made  no  reply.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
the  door.  He  turned  away  with  a  shudder.  Bright 
had  entered.  In  his  hand  he  was  carrying  two  gas 
masks.     He  came  over  to  the  side  of  the  couch,  and, 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  179 

looking  down  at  Julian,  lifted  his  hand,  and  felt  his 
pulse.  Then,  with  an  abrupt  movement,  he  handed 
one  of  the  masks  to  Fenn. 

"Look  out  for  yourself,"  he  advised.  "I  am  go- 
ing to  give  him  an  antidote." 

.  Bright  stepped  back  and  adjusted  his  own  gas 
mask,  while  Fenn  followed  suit.  Then  the  former 
drew  from  his  pocket  what  seemed  to  be  a  small 
tube  with  perforated  holes  at  the  top.  He  leaned 
over  Julian  and  pressed  it.  A  little  cloud  of  faint 
mist  rushed  through  the  holes ;  a  queer,  aromatic 
perfume,  growing  stronger  every  moment,  seemed  to 
creep  into  the  farthest  corners  of  the  room.  In  less 
than  ten  seconds  Julian  opened  his  eyes.  In  half 
a  minute  he  was  sitting  up.  His  eyes  were  bright 
once  more,  there  was  colour  in  his  cheeks.  Bright 
spoke  to  him  warningly. 

"Mr.  Orden,"  he  enjoined,  "sit  where  you  are. 
Remember  I  have  the  other  tube  in  my  left  hand." 

"You  infernal  scoundrel !"  Julian  exclaimed. 

"Mr.  Bright,"  Fenn  asserted,  "is  nothing  of  the 
sort.  Neither  am  I.  We  are  both  honest  men  faced 
with  a  colossal  situation.  Tliere  is  nothing  personal 
in  our  treatment  of  you.  We  have  no  enmity  to- 
wards you.  You  are  simply  a  person  who  has  com- 
mitted a  theft." 

"What  puzzles  me,"  Julian  muttered,  "is  what  you 
expect  I  am  going  to  do  about  you,  if  ever  I  do 
escape  from  your  clutches." 


180  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"If  you  do  escape,"  Fenn  said  quietly,  "you  will 
view  the  matter  differently.  You  will  find,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  that  you  are  powerless  to  do  anything. 
You  will  find  a  new  law  and  a  new  order  prevailing." 

"German  law !"  Julian  sneered. 

"You  misjudge  us,"  Fenn  continued.  "Both 
Bright  and  I  are  patriotic  Englishmen.  We  are 
engaged  at  the  present  moment  in  a  desperate  effort 
to  save  our  country.  You  are  the  man  who  stands 
in  the  way." 

"I  never  thought,"  said  Julian,  "that  I  should 
smile  in  this  place,  but  you  are  beginning  to  amuse 
me.  Why  not  be  more  explicit?  Why  not  prove 
what  you  say.''  I  might  become  amenable.  I  sup- 
pose your  way  of  saving  the  country  is  to  hand  it 
over  to  the  Germans,  eh.''" 

"Our  way  of  saving  the  country,"  Fenn  declared, 
"is  to  establish  peace." 

Julian  laughed  scornfully. 

"I  know  a  little  about  you,  Mr.  Fenn,"  he  said. 
"I  know  the  sort  of  peace  you  would  establish,  the 
sort  of  peace  any  man  would  propose  who  conducts 
a  secret  correspondence  with  Germany." 

Fenn,  who  had  lifted  his  mask  for  a  moment,  slowly 
rearranged  it. 

"Mr.  Orden,"  he  said,  "we  are  not  going  to  waste 
words  upon  you.  You  are  hopelessly  and  intoler- 
ably prejudiced.  Will  you  tell  us  where  you  have 
concealed  the  packet  you  intercepted  .'*" 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  181 

**Aren't  you  almost  tired  of  asking  me  that  ques- 
tion? I'm  tired  of  hearing  it,'*  Julian  replied.  "I 
will  not." 

"Will  you  let  me  try  to  prove  to  you,"  Fenn 
begged,  "that  by  the  retention  of  that  packet  you 
are  doing  your  country  an  evil  service?" 

"If  you  talked  till  doomsday,"  Julian  assured  him, 
"I  should  not  believe  a  word  you  said." 

"In  that  case,"  Fenn  began  slowly,  with  an  evil 
glitter  in  his  eyes — 

"Well,  for  heaven's  sake  finish  the  thing  this  time  !'* 
Julian  interrupted.  "I'm  sick  of  playing  the  labor- 
atory rabbit  for  3'ou.  If  you  are  out  for  murder, 
finish  the  job  and  have  done  with  it." 

Bright  was  playing  with  another  tube  which  he 
had  withdrawn  from  his  pocket. 

*'It  is  my  duty  to  warn  you,  Mr.  Orden,"  he  said, 
*'that  the  contents  of  this  little  tube  of  gas,  which 
will  reach  you  with  a  touch  of  my  fingers,  may  pos- 
sibly be  fatal  and  will  certainly  incapacitate  you  for 
life." 

"Why  warn  me?"  Julian  scoffed.  "You  know 
very  well  that  I  haven't  the  strength  of  a  cat,  or  I 
should  wring  your  neck." 

"We  feel  ourselves,"  Bright  continued  unctuously, 
"justified  in  using  this  tube,  because  its  first  results 
will  be  to  throw  you  into  a  delirium,  in  the  course  of 
which  we  trust  that  you  will  divulge  the  hiding  place 
of  the  stolen  packet.     We  use  this  means  in  the  in- 


182  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW, 

terests  of  the  country,  and  such  risk  as  there  may 
be  lies  on  your  own  head." 

"You're  a  canting  hypocrite !"  Julian  declared. 
"Try  your  delirium.  That  packet  happens  to  be  in 
the  one  place  where  neither  you  nor  one  of  your 
tribe  could  get  at  it." 

"It  is  a  serious  moment,  this,  Mr.  Orden,"  Fenn 
reminded  him.  "You  are  in  the  prime  of  life,  and 
there  is  a  scandal  connected  with  your  present  po- 
sition which  your  permanent  disappearance  would 
certainly  not  dissipate.     Remember — " 

He  stopped  short.  A  whistle  in  the  comer  of  the 
room  was  blowing.  Bright  moved  towards  it,  but 
at  that  moment  there  was  the  sound  of  flying  foot- 
steps on  the  wooden  stairs  outside,  and  the  door  was 
flung  open.  Catherine,  breathless  with  haste,  paused 
for  a  moment  on  the  threshold,  then  came  forward 
with  a  little  cry. 

"Julian !"  she  exclaimed. 

He  gazed  at  her,  speechless,  but  with  a  sudden 
light  in  his  eyes.  She  came  across  the  room  and 
dropped  on  her  knees  by  his  couch.  The  two  men 
fell  back.  Fenn  slipped  back  between  her  and  the 
door.  They  both  removed  their  masks,  but  they 
held  them  ready. 

"Oh,  how  dared  they  !"  she  went  on.  "The  beasts ! 
Tell  me,  are  you  ill?" 

"Weak  as  a  kitten,"  he  faltered.  "They've  poi- 
soned me  with  their  beastly  gases." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  18« 

Catherine  rose  to  her  feet.  She  faced  the  two  men, 
her  eyes  flashing  with  anger. 

"The  Council  will  require  an  explanation  of  this, 
Mr.  Fenn!"  she  declared  passionately.  "Barely  an 
hour  ago  you  told  us  that  Mr.  Orden  had  escaped 
from  Hampstead." 

"Julian  Orden,"  Fenn  replied,  "has  been  handed 
over  to  our  secret  service  by  the  unanimous  vote 
of  the  Council.  We  have  absolute  liberty  to  deal 
with  him  as  we  think  fit." 

"Have  you  liberty  to  tell  lies  as  to  his  where- 
abouts.'"' Catherine  demanded.  "You  deliberately 
told  the  Council  he  had  escaped,  yet,  entirely  owing 
to  Mr.  Furley,  I  find  you  down  here  at  Bermondsey 
with  him.  What  were  you  going  to  do  with  him 
when  I  came  in?" 

"Persuade  him  to  restore  the  packet,  if  we  could," 
Fenn  answered  sullenly. 

"Rubbish !"  Catherine  retorted.  "You  know  very 
well  that  he  is  our  friend.  You  have  only  to  tell 
him  the  truth,  and  your  task  with  him  is  at  an 
end." 

"Steady !"  Julian  muttered.  "Don't  imagine  that 
I  have  any  sympathy  with  3'our  little  nest  of  conspir- 
ators." 

"That  is  only  because  you  do  not  understand," 
Catherine  assured  him.  "Listen,  and  you  shall  hear 
the  whole  truth.  I  will  tell  you  what  is  inside  that 
packet  and  whose  signatures  you  will  find  there." 


184  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

Julian  gripped  her  wrist  suddenly.  His  eyes  were 
filled  with  a  new  fear.  He  was  watcliing  the  two 
men,  who  were  whispering  together. 

"Catherine,"  he  exclaimed  warningly,  "look  out ! 
These  men  mean  mischief.  That  devil  Bright  in- 
vents a  new  poisonous  gas  every  day.  Look  at  Fenn 
buckling  on  his  mask.  Quick!  Get  out  if  you 
can !" 

Catherine's  hand  touched  her  bosom.  Bright 
sprang  towards  her,  but  he  was  too  late.  She  raised 
a  little  gold  whistle  to  her  lips,  and  its  pealing  sum- 
mons rang  through  the  room.  Fenn  dropped  his 
mask  and  glanced  towards  Bright.  His  face  was 
livid. 

"Who's  outside.'"'  he  demanded. 

"The  Bishop  and  Mr.  Furley.  Great  though  my 
confidence  is  in  you  both,  I  scarcely  ventured  to  come 
here  alone." 

The  approaching  footsteps  were  plainly  audible. 
Fenn  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  a  desperate  at- 
tempt at   carelessness. 

"I  don't  know  what  is  in  your  mind.  Miss  Abbe- 
way,"  he  said.  "You  can  scarcely  believe  that  you, 
at  any  rate,  were  in  danger  at  our  hands." 

"I  would  not  trust  yooi  a  yard,"  she  replied 
fiercely.  "In  any  case,  it  is  better  that  the  others 
should  come.  Mr.  Orden  might  not  believe  me.  He 
will  at  least  believe  the  Bishop." 

"Believe  whom?"  Julian  demanded. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  18S 

The  door  was  opened.  The  Bishop  and  Miles 
Furley  came  hastily  in.  Catherine  stepped  forward 
to  meet  them. 

"I  was  obliged  to  whistle,"  she  explained,  a  little 
hysterically.  "I  do  not  trust  either  of  these  men. 
That  fiend  Bright  has  a  poisonous  gas  with  him  in 
a  pocket  cylinder.  I  am  convinced  that  they  meant 
to  murder  Julian." 

The  two  newcomers  turned  towards  the  couch  and 
exchanged  amazed  greetings  with  Julian.  Fenn 
threw  his  mask  on  to  the  table  with  an  uneasy  laugh. 

"Miss  Abbeway,"  he  protested,  "is  inclined  to  be 
melodramatic.  The  gas  which  Bright  has  in  that 
cylinder  is  simply  one  which  would  produce  a  little 
temporary  unconsciousness.  We  might  have  used  it 
— we  may  still  use  it — but  if  you  others  are  able  to 
persuade  Mr.  Orden  to  restore  the  packet,  our  task 
with  him  is  at  an  end.  We  are  not  his  gaolers — or 
perhaps  he  would  say  his  torturers — for  pleasure. 
The  Council  has  ordered  that  we  should  extort  from 
him  the  papers  you  know  of  and  has  given  us  carte 
blanche  as  to  the  means.  If  you  others  can  persuade 
him  to  restore  them  peaceably,  why,  do  it.  We  are 
prepared  to  wait." 

Julian  was  still  staring  from  one  to  the  other  of 
his  visitors.  His  expression  of  blank  astonishment 
had  scarcely  decreased. 

*'Bishop,"  he  said  at  last,  "unless  you  want  to  see 
me  go  insane  before  your  eyes,  please  explain.     It 


.186  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

can't  be  possible  that  you  have  anything  in  com- 
mon with  this  nest  of  conspirators." 

The  Bishop  smiled  a  little  wanJy.  He  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  godson's  shoulder. 

"Believe  me,  I  have  been  no  party  to  your  in- 
carceration, Julian,"  he  declared,  *'but  if  you  will 
listen  to  me,  I  will  tell  you  why  I  think  it  would  be 
better  for  you  to  restore  that  packet  to  Miss  Abbe- 
way." 

"Tell  that  blackguard  to  give  mc  another  sniff  of 
his  restorative  gas,"  Julian  begged.  "These  shocks 
are  almost  too  much  for  me." 

The  Bishop  turned  interrogatively  towards 
Bright,  who  once  more  leaned  over  Julian  with  the 
tube  in  his  hand.  Again  the  little  mist,  the  pungent 
odour.     Julian  rose  to  his  feet  and  sat  down  again. 

"I  am  listening,"  he  said. 

*'First  of  all,"  began  the  Bishop  earnestly,  as  he 
seated  himself  at  the  end  of  the  couch  on  which 
Julian  had  been  Ij'ing,  "let  me  try  to  remove  some 
of  your  misconceptions.  Miss  Abbeway  is  in  no 
sense  of  the  word  a  German  spy.  She  and  I,  Mr. 
Furley  here,  Mr.  Fenn  and  Mr.  Bright,  all  belong 
to  an  organisation  leagued  together  for  one  purpose 
— we  are  determined  to  end  the  war." 

"Pacifists !"  Julian  muttered. 

"An  idle  word,"  the  Bishop  protested,  "because  at 
heart  we  are  all  pacifists.  There  is  not  one  of  us 
who   woidd   wilfully    choose   war   instead   of   peace. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  187 

The  only  question  is  the  price  we  are  prepared  to 
pay." 

"Why  not  leave  that  to  the  Govemment  ?" 

"The  Government,"  the  Bishop  replied,  "are  the 
agents  of  the  people.  The  people  in  this  case  wish 
to  deal  direct." 

"Again  why?"  Julian  demanded. 

"Because  the  Government  is  composed  wholly  of 
politicians,  politicians  who,  in  far  too  many  speeches, 
have  pledged  themselves  to  too  many  definite  things. 
Still,  the  Government  will  have  its  chance." 

"Explain  to  me,"  Julian  asked,  "why,  if  you  are 
a  patriotic  society,  you  are  in  secret  and  illegal  com- 
munication with  Germany?" 

"The  Germany  with  whom  we  are  in  communica- 
tion," the  Bishop  assured  his  questioner,  "is  the 
Germany  who  thinks  as  we  do." 

"Then  3'ou  are  on  a  wild-goose  chase,"  Julian  de- 
clared, "because  the  Germans  who  think  as  you  do 
are  in  a  hopeless  minority." 

The  Bishop's  forefinger  was  thrust  out. 

"I  have  you,  Julian,"  he  said.  "That  very  belief 
which  you  have  just  expressed  is  our  justification, 
because  it  is  the  common  belief  throughout  the  coun- 
try. I  can  prove  to  you  that  you  are  mistaken — 
can  prove  it,  with  the  help  of  that  very  packet  which 
is  responsible  for  your  incarceration  here." 

"Explain,"  Julian  begged. 

"That  packet,"  the  Bishop  declared,  "contains  the 


188  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW, 

peace  terms  formulated  by  the  Socialist  and  Labour 
parties  of  Germany." 

"Worth  precisely  the  paper  it  is  written  on !" 
Julian  scoffed. 

"And  ratified,"  the  Bishop  continued  emphatically, 
"by  the  three  great  men  of  Germany  whose  signa- 
tures are  attached  to  that  document — the  Kaiser, 
the  Chancellor  and  Hindenburg." 

Julian  was  electrified. 

"Do  you  seriously  mean,"  he  asked,  "that  those 
signatures  are  attached  to  proposals  of  peace  for- 
mulated by  the  Socialist  and  Labour  parties  of  Ger- 
many ?" 

"I  do  indeed,"  was  the  confident  reply.  "If  the 
terms  are  not  what  we  have  been  led  to  expect,  or 
if  the  signatures  are  not  there,  the  whole  affair  is 
at  an  end." 

"You  are  telling  me  wonderful  things,  sir,"  Julian 
confessed,  after  a  brief  pause. 

"I  am  telling  what  you  will  discover  yourself  to  be 
the  truth,"  the  Bishop  insisted.  "And,  Julian,  I  am 
appealing  to  you  not  only  for  the  return  of  that 
packet,  but  for  your  sympathy,  your  help,  your 
partisanship.  You  can  guess  now  what  has  hap- 
pened. Your  anonymity  has  come  to  an  end.  The 
newly-formed  Council  of  Labour,  to  which  we  all 
belong,  is  eager  and  anxious  to  welcome  3'ou." 

"Has  any  one  given  me  away?"  Julian  asked. 

Catherine  shook  her  head. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  189 

"The  truth  was  discovered  this  evening,  when  your 
rooms  were  searched,"  she  explained. 

"What  is  the  constitution  of  this  Council  of  La- 
bour?" Julian  enquired,  a  little  dazed  by  this  revela- 
tion. 

"It  is  the  very  body  of  men  which  you  yourself 
foreshadowed,"  the  Bishop  replied  eagerly. 
"Twenty  of  the  members  are  elected  by  the  Trades 
Unions  and  represent  the  great  industries  of  the  Em- 
pire; and  there  are  three  outsiders — Miss  Abbeway, 
Miles  Furley  and  myself.  If  you,  Julian,  had  not 
been  so  successful  in  concealing  your  identity,  you 
would  have  been  the  first  man  to  whom  the  Council 
would  have  turned  for  help.  Now  that  the  truth 
is  known,  your  duty  is  clear.  The  glory  of  ending 
this  war  will  belong  to  the  people,  and  it  is  partly 
owing  to  you  that  the  people  have  grown  to  realise 
their  strength." 

"My  own  position  at  the  present  moment/'  Julian 
began,  a  little  grimly — 

"You  have  no  one  to  blame  for  that  but  yourself,'* 
Catherine  interrupted.  "If  we  had  known  who  you 
were,  do  you  suppose  that  we  should  have  allowed 
these  men  to  deal  with  you  in  such  a  manner?  Do 
you  suppose  that  I  should  not  have  told  you  the 
truth  about  that  packet?  However,  that  is  over. 
You  know  the  truth  now.  We  five  are  all  members 
of  the  Council  who  are  sitting  practically  night  and 
day,  waiting  — you  know  what  for.     Do  not  keep  us 


100  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

in  suspense  any  longer  than  you  can  help.  Tell  us 
where  to  find  this  letter?" 

Julian  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead  a  little 
wearily. 

"I  am  confused,"  he  admitted.  "I  must  think. 
After  all,  you  are  engaged  in  a  conspiracy.  Sten- 
son's  Cabinet  may  not  be  the  strongest  on  earth,  or 
the  most  capable,  but  Stenson  himself  has  carried 
the  burden  of  this  war  bravely." 

"If  the  terms  offered,"  the  Bishop  pointed  out, 
"are  anything  like  what  we  expect,  they  are  better 
than  any  which  the  politicians  could  ever  have 
mooted,  even  after  years  more  of  bloodshed.  It  is 
my  opinion  that  Stenson  will  welcome  them,  and  that 
the  country,  generally  speaking,  will  be  entireh^  in 
favour  of  their  acceptance." 

"Supposing,"  Julian  asked,  "that  you  think  tliem 
reasonable,  that  you  make  your  demand  to  the  Prime 
Minister,  and  he  refuses.     What  then?" 

"That,"  Fenn  intervened,  with  the  officious  air  of 
one  who  has  been  left  out  of  the  conversation  far  too 
long,  "is  where  we  come  in.  At  our  word,  every 
coal  pit  in  England  would  cease  work,  every  furnace 
fire  would  go  out,  every  factory  would  stand  empty. 
The  trains  would  remain  on  their  sidings,  or  wherever 
they  might  chance  to  be  when  the  edict  was  pro- 
nounced. The  same  with  the  'buses  and  cabs,  the 
same  with  the  Underground.  Not  a  ship  would  leave 
any  port  in  the  United  Kingdom,  not  a  ship  would 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  191 

be  docked.  Forty-eight  hours  of  this  would  do  more 
harm  than  a  year's  civil  war.  Forty-eight  hours 
must  procure  from  the  Prime  Minister  absolute  sub- 
mission to  our  demands.  Ours  is  the  greatest  power 
the  world  has  ever  evolved.  We  shall  use  it  for  the 
greatest  cause  the  world  has  ever  known — the  cause 
of  peace." 

"This,  in  a  way,  was  inevitable,"  Julian  observed. 
"You  remember  the  conversation.  Bishop,"  he  added, 
"down  at  Maltenby.?" 

"Very  well  indeed,"  the  latter  acquiesced. 

"The  country  went  into  slavery,"  Julian  pro- 
nounced, "in  August,  1915.  That  slavery  may  or 
may  not  be  good  for  them.  To  be  frank,  I  think  it 
depends  entirely  upon  the  constitution  of  your 
Council.  It  is  so  much  to  the  good,  Bishop,  that 
you  are  there." 

"Our  Council,  such  as  it  is,"  Fenn  remarked 
acidly,  "consists  of  men  elected  to  their  position  by 
the  votes  of  a  good  many  millions  of  their  fellow 
toilers." 

"The  people  may  have  chosen  wisely,"  was  the 
grave  reply,  "or  they  may  have  made  mistakes. 
Such  things  have  been  known.  By  the  bye,  I  sup- 
pose that  my  durance  is  at  an  end?" 

"It  is  at  an  end,  whichever  way  you  decide," 
Catherine  declared.  "Now  that  you  know  every- 
thing, though,  you  will  not  hesitate  to  give  up  the 
packet?" 


192  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW. 

"You  shall  have  it,"  he  agreed.  "I  will  give  it 
back  into  your  hands." 

"The  sooner  the  better !"  Fenn  exclaimed  eagerly. 
"And,  Mr.  Orden,  one  word." 

Juhan  was  standing  amongst  them  now,  very 
drawn  and  pale  in  the  dim  halo  of  light  thrown  down 
from  the  hanging  lamp.  His  answering  monosyllable 
was  cold  and  restrained. 

"Well.?" 

"I  trust  you  will  understand,"  Fenn  continued, 
"that  Bright  and  I  were  simply  carrying  out  or- 
ders. To  us  you  were  an  enem}'.  You  had  be- 
trayed the  trust  of  one  of  our  members.  The 
prompt  delivery  of  that  packet  meant  the  salvation 
of  thousands  of  lives.  It  meant  a  cessation  of  this 
ghastly  world  tragedy.  We  were  harsh,  perhaps, 
but  we  acted  according  to  orders." 

Julian  glanced  at  the  hand  which  Fenn  had  half 
extended  but  made  no  movement  to  take  it.  He 
leaned  a  little  upon  the  Bishop's  arm. 

*'Help  me  out  of  this  place,  sir,  will  you.'"'  he 
begged.  "As  for  Fenn  and  that  other  brute,  what 
I  have  to  say  about  them  will  keep." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

It  was  a  little  more  than  half  an  hour  later  when 
Julian  ascended  the  steps  of  his  club  in  Pall  Mall 
and  asked  the  hall  porter  for  letters.  Except  that 
he  was  a  little  paler  than  usual  and  was  leaning  more 
heavily  upon  his  stick,  there  was  nothing  about  his 
appearance  to  denote  several  days  of  intense  strain. 
There  was  a  shade  of  curiosity,  mingled  with  sur- 
prise, in  the  commissionaire's  respectful  greeting, 

"There  have  been  a  good  many  enquiries  for  you 
the  last  few  days,  sir,"  he  observed, 

"I  dare  say,"  Julian  replied.  "I  was  obliged  to 
go  out  of  town  unexpectedly," 

He  ran  through  the  little  pile  of  letters  and  se- 
lected a  bulky  envelope  addressed  to  himself  in  his 
own  handwriting.  With  this  he  returned  to  the  taxi- 
cab  in  which  the  Bishop  and  Catherine  were  seated. 
They  gazed  with  fascinated  eyes  at  the  packet  which 
he  was  carrying  and  which  he  at  once  displayed. 

"You  see,"  he  remarked,  as  he  leaned  back,  "there 
is  nothing  so  impenetrable  in  the  world  as  a  club  of 
good  standing.  It  beats  combination  safes  hollow. 
It  would  have  taken  all  Scotland  Yard  to  have 
dragged  this  letter  from  the  rack." 


194  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"That  is  really — it?"  Catherine  demanded  breath- 
lessly. 

"It  is  the  packet,"  he  assured  her,  "which  you 
handed  to  me  for  safe  keeping  at  Maltenby." 

They  drove  almost  in  silence  to  the  Bishop's  house, 
where  it  had  been  arranged  that  Julian  should  spend 
the  night.  The  Bishop  left  the  two  together  before 
the  fire  in  his  library,  while  he  personally  super- 
intended the  arrangement  of  a  guest  room.  Cather- 
ine came  over  and  knelt  by  the  side  of  Julian's  chair. 

"Shall  I  beg  forgiveness  for  the  past,"  she  whis- 
pered, "or  msij  I  not  talk  of  the  future,  the  glorious 
future?" 

"Is  it  to  be  glorious  ?"  he  asked  a  little  doubtfully. 

"It  can  be  made  so,"  she  answered  with  fervour, 
"by  you  more  than  by  anybody  else  living.  I  defy 
you — you,  'Paul  Fiske' — to  impugn  our  scheme,  our 
aims,  the  goal  towards  which  we  strive."  All  that  we 
needed  was  a  leader  who  could  lift  us  up  above  the 
localness,  the  narrow  visions  of  these  men.  They 
are  in  deadly  earnest,  but  they  can't  see  far  enough, 
and  each  sees  along  his  own  groove.  It  is  true  that 
at  the  end  the  same  sun  shines,  but  no  assembly  of 
people  can  move  together  along  a  dozen  differert 
ways  and  keep  the  same  goal  in  view." 

He  touched  the  packet. 

"We  do  not  yet  know  the  written  word  here," 
he  reminded  her. 

"I  do,"  she  insisted.     "My  heart  tells  me.     Be- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  195 

sides,  I  have  had  many  hints.  There  are  people  in 
London  whose  position  forces  them  to  remain  silent, 
who  understand  and  know." 

"Foreigners?"  Julian  asked  suspiciously. 

"Neutrals,  of  course,  but  neutrals  of  discretion  are 
very  useful  people.  The  military  party  in  Germany 
is  making  a  brave  show  still,  but  it  is  beaten,  not- 
withstanding its  victories.  The  people  are  gather- 
ing together  in  their  millions.  Their  voice  is  al- 
ready being  heard.  Here  we  have  the  proof  of 
it." 

"But  even  if  these  proposed  terms  are  as  favour- 
able as  you  say,"  Julian  objected,  "how  can  you 
force  them  upon  the  English  Cabinet?  There  is 
America — France.  Yours  is  purely  a  home  demand. 
A  government  has  other  things  to  think  of  and  con- 
sider." , 

"France  is  war-weary  to  the  bone,"  she  declared. 
"France  will  follow  England,  especially  when  she 
knows  the  contents  of  that  packet.  As  for  America, 
she  came  into  this  after  the  great  sacrifices  had 
been  made.  She  demands  nothing  more  than  is  to  be 
yielded  up.  It  is  not  for  the  sake  of  visionary  ideas, 
not  for  diplomatic  precedence  that  the  humani- 
tarians of  the  world  are  going  to  hesitate  about 
ending  this  brutal  slaughter." 

He  studied  her  curiously.  In  the  firelight  her 
face  seemed  to  him  almost  strangely  beautiful.  She 
was  uplifted  by  the  fervour  of  her  thoughts.     The 


196  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

depth  in  her  soft  brown  eyes  was  immeasurable;  the 
quiver  of  her  lips,  so  soft  and  yet  so  spiritual,  was 
almost  inspiring.  Her  hand  was  resting  upon  his 
shoulder.  She  seemed  to  dwell  upon  his  expression, 
to  listen  eagerly  for  his  words.  Yet  he  realised  that 
in  all  this  there  was  no  personal  note.  She  was  the 
disciple  of  a  hoi}'  cause,  aflame  with  purpose. 

"It  will  mean  a  revolution,"  he  said  thoughtfully. 

"A  revolution  was  established  two  years  ago,"  she 
pointed  out,  "and  the  people  have  held  their  power 
ever  since.  I  will  tell  you  what  I  believe  to-day," 
she  went  on  passionately.  "I  believe  that  the  very 
class  who  was  standing  the  firmest,  whose  fingers 
grasp  most  tightly  the  sword  of  warfare,  will  be  most 
grateful  to  the  people  who  will  wrest  the  initiative 
from  them  and  show  them  the  way  to  an  honourable, 
inevitable  peace." 

"When  do  you  propose  to  break  those  seals?"  he 
enquired. 

"To-morrow  evening,"  she  replied.  "There  will  be 
a  full  meeting  of  the  Council.  The  terms  will  be 
read.     Then  you  shall  decide." 

"What  am  I  to  decide.?" 

"Whether  you  will  accept  the  post  of  spokesman — 
whether  you  will  be  the  ambassador  who  shall  ap- 
proach the  Government." 

"But  they  may  not  elect  me,"  he  objected. 

"They  will,"  she  replied  confidently.  "It  was  you 
who  showed  them  their  power.     It  is  you  whose  in- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  197 

spiration  has  carried  thera  along.  It  is  you  who 
shall  be  their  representative.  Don't  you  realise," 
she  went  on,  "that  it  is  the  very  association  of  such 
men  as  yourself  and  Miles  Furley  and  the  Bishop 
with  this  movement  which  will  endow  it  with  reahty  in 
the  eyes  of  the  bourgeoisie  of  the  country  and  Par- 
liament?" 

Their  host  returned,  followed  by  his  butler  car- 
rying a  tray  with  refreshments,  and  the  burden  of 
serious  things  fell  away  from  them.  It  was  only 
after  Catherine  had  departed,  and  the  two  men  lin- 
gered for  a  moment  near  the  fire  before  retiring,  that 
either  of  them  reverted  to  the  great  subject  which 
dominated  their  thoughts. 

"You  understand,  Julian,"  the  Bishop  said,  with  a 
shade  of  anxiet}'  in  his  tone,  "that  I  am  in  the  same 
position  as  j'ourself  so  far  as  regards  the  proposals 
which  may  lie  within  that  envelope?  I  have  joined 
this  movement — or  conspiracy,  as  I  suppose  it  would 
be  called — on  the  one  condition  that  the  terms  pro- 
nounced there  are  such  as  a  Christian  and  a  law- 
loving  country,  whose  children  have  already  made 
great  sacrifices  in  the  cause  of  freedom,  may  honour- 
ably accept.  If  they  are  otherwise,  all  the  weight 
and  influence  I  may  have  with  the  people  go 
into  the  other  scale.  I  take  it  that  it  is  so  with 
you.?" 

"Entirely,"  Julian  acquiesced.  "To  be  frank  with 
you,"  lie  added,  "ray  doubts  are  not  so  much  con- 


198  THE  DEVIL'S  PAWi 

cerning  the  terms  of  peace  themselves  as  the  power 
of  the  German  democracy  to  enforce  them." 

"We  have  relied  a  good  deal,"  the  Bishop  admitted, 
"upon  reports  from  neutrals." 

Julian  smiled  a  little  grimly. 

"We  have  wasted  a  good  many  epithets  criticising 
German  diplomacy,"  he  observed,  "but  she  seems 
to  know  how  to  hold  most  of  the  neutrals  in  the 
hollow  of  her  hand.  You  know  what  that  French- 
man said-f*  'Scratch  a  neutral  and  you  find  a  Ger- 
man propaganda  agent !'  " 

The  Bishop  led  the  way  upstairs.  Outside  the 
door  of  Julian's  room,  he  laid  his  hand  affectionately 
upon  the  young  man's  shoulder. 

"My  godson,"  he  said,  "as  yet  we  have  scarcely 
spoken  of  this  great  surprise  which  you  have  given 
us — of  Paul  Fiske.  All  that  I  shall  say  now  is 
this.  I  am  very  proud  to  know  that  he  is  my  guest 
to-night.  I  am  very  happy  to  think  that  from  to- 
morrow we  shall  be  fellow  workers." 

Catherine,  while  she  waited  for  her  tea  in  the 
Carlton  lounge  on  the  following  afternoon,  gazed 
through  the  drooping  palms  which  sheltered  the 
somewhat  secluded  table  at  which  she  was  seated 
upon  a  very  brilliant  scene.  It  was  just  five  o'clock, 
and  a  packed  crowd  of  fashionable  Londoners  was  lis- 
tening to  the  strains  of  a  popular  band,  or  as  much 
of  it  as  could  be  heard  above  the  din  of  conversation. 


THE  DEVJi'S  PAW  199 

"This  is  all  rather  amazing,  is  it  not?"  she  re- 
marked to  her  companion. 

The  latter,  an  attache  at  a  neutral  Embassy, 
dropped  his  eyeglass  and  polished  it  with  a  silk 
handkerchief,  in  the  corner  of  which  was  em- 
broidered a  somewhat  conspicuous  coronet. 

"It  makes  an  interesting  study,"  he  declared. 
"Berlin  now  is  madly  gay,  Paris  decorous  and  sober. 
It  remains  with  London  to  be  normal, — London  be- 
cause its  hide  is  the  thickest,  its  sensibility  the  least 
acute,  its  selfishness  the  most  profound." 

Catherine  reflected  for  a  moment. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  "that  a  philosophical  history 
of  the  war  will  some  day,  for  those  who  come  after 
us,  be  extraordinarily  interesting.  I  mean  the  study 
of  the  national  temperaments  as  they  were  before, 
as  the}'  are  now  during  the  war,  and  as  they  will  be 
afterwards.  There  is  one  thing  which  will  always 
be  noted,  and  that  is  the  intense  dislike  which  you, 
perhaps  I,  certainly  the  majority  of  neutrals,  feel 
towards  England." 

"It  is  true,"  the  young  man  assented  solemnly. 
"One  finds  it  everywhere." 

"Before  the  war,"  Catherine  went  on,  "it  was  Ger- 
many who  was  hated  everywhere.  She  pushed  her 
way  into  the  best  places  at  hotels,  watering  places — 
Monte  Carlo,  for  instance — and  the  famous  spas. 
To-day,  all  that  accumulated  dislike  seems  to  be 
turned  upon  England.     I  am  not  myself  a  great  ad- 


200  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

mirer  of  this  country,  and  yet  I  ask  m^'self  why?" 

"England  is  smug,"  the  young  man  pronounced ; 
"She  is  callous ;  she  is,  without  meaning  to  be,  hypo- 
critical. She  works  herself  into  a  terrible  state  of 
indignation  about  the  misdeeds  of  her  neighbours, 
and  she  does  not  realise  her  own  faults.  The  Ger- 
mans are  overbearing,  but  one  realises  that  and  ex- 
pects it.  Englishmen  are  irritating.  It  is  certainly 
true  that  amongst  us  remaining  neutrals,"  he  added, 
dropping  his  voice  a  little  and  looking  around  to  be 
sure  of  their  isolation,  "the  sympathy  remains  with 
the  Central  Powers." 

*'I  have  some  dear  friends  in  this  country,  too," 
Catherine  sighed. 

"Naturally — amongst  those  of  your  own  order. 
But  then  there  is  very  little  difference  between  the 
aristocracies  of  every  race  in  the  world.  It  is  the 
bourgeoisie  which  tells,  which  sets  its  stamp  upon  a 
nation's  character." 

Their  tea  had  arrived,  and  for  a  few  moments  the 
conversation  travelled  in  lighter  channels.  The 
young  man,  who  was  a  person  of  some  consequence  in 
his  own  country,  spoke  easily  of  the  theatres,  of  mu- 
tual friends,  of  some  sport  in  which  he  had  been 
engaged.  Catherine  relapsed  into  the  role  which  had 
been  her  first  in  life, — the  young  woman  of  fashion. 
As  such  they  attracted  no  attention  save  a  few  ad- 
miring glances  on  the  part  of  passers-by  towards 
Catherine.     As  the  people  around  them  thinned  out 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  «01 

a  little,  their  conversation  became   more  intimate. 

"I  shall  always  feel,"  the  young  man  said  thought- 
fully, "that  in  these  days  I  have  lived  very  near 
great  things.  I  have  seen  and  realised  what  the  his- 
torians will  relate  at  second-hand.  The  greatest 
events  move  like  straws  in  the  wind.  A  month  ago, 
it  seemed  as  though  the  Central  Powers  would  lose 
the  war." 

"I  suppose,"  she  observed,  "it  depends  very  much 
upon  what  you  mean  by  winning  it?  The  terms  of 
peace  are  scarcely  the  terms  of  victory,  are  they.''" 

"The  terms  of  peace,"  he  repeated  thoughtfully. 

"We  happen  to  know  what  they  are,  do  we  not.?" 
she  continued,  speaking  almost  under  her  breath, — 
*'the  basic  terms,  at  any  rate," 

"You  mean,"  he  said  slowly,  "the  terms  put  for- 
ward by  the  Socialist  Party  of  Germany  to  ensure 
the  granting  of  an  armistice?" 

"And  acceded  to,"  she  reminded  him,  "by  the 
Kaiser  and  the  two  greatest  German  statesmen." 

He  toyed  with  his  teacup,  drew  a  gold  cigarette 
case  from  his  pocket,  selected  a  cigarette,  and  lit  it. 

"You  would  try  to  make  me  believe,"  he  remarked, 
smiling  at  his  companion,  "that  to-day  you  are  not 
in  your  most  intelligent  mood." 

"Explain,  if  you  please,"  she  begged  earnestly. 

He  smoked  stolidly  for  several  moments. 

"I  imagine,"  he  said,  "that  you  preserve  with  me 
something  of  that  very  skilfully  assumed  ignorance 


202  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

which  is  the  true  mask  of  the  diplomatist.  But  is  it 
worth  while,  I  wonder?" 

She  caught  at  her  breath. 

"You  are  too  clever,"  she  murmured,  looking  at 
him  covertly. 

"You  have  seen,"  he  continued,  "how  Germany, 
who  needs  peace  sorely,  has  striven  to  use  the  most 
despised  power  in  her  country  for  her  own  advantage 
— I  mean  the  Socialist  Party.  From  being  treated 
with  scorn  and  ignominy,  they  were  suddenly,  at  the 
time  of  the  proposed  Stockholm  Conference,  judged 
worthy  of  notice  from  the  All  Highest  himself.  He 
suddenly  saw  how  wonderful  a  use  might  be  made  of 
them.  It  was  a  very  clever  trap  which  was  baited, 
and  it  was  not  owing  to  any  foresight  or  any  clever- 
ness on  the  part  of  this  country  that  the  Allies  did 
not  walk  straight  into  it.  I  say  again,"  he  went  on, 
"that  it  was  a  mere  fluke  which  prevented  the  Allies 
from  being  represented  at  that  Conference  and  the 
driving  in  of  the  thin  end  of  the  wedge." 

"You  are  quite  right,"  Catherine  agreed. 

"German  diplomacy,"  he  proceeded,  "may  some- 
times be  obtuse,  but  it  is  at  least  persistent.  Their 
next  move  will  certainly  rank  in  history  as  the  most 
astute,  the  most  cunning  of  any  put  forward  since  the 
war  commenced.  Of  course,"  the  young  man  went 
on,  fitting  his  cigarette  into  a  long,  amber  holder, 
*Ve  who  are  not  Germans  can  only  guess,  but  even 
the  guessing  is  fascinating." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  «08 

**Go  on,  please,  dear  Baron,"  she  begged.  **It  is 
when  you  talk  like  this  and  show  me  your  mind 
that  I  seem  to  be  listening  to  a  second  Bismarck." 

"You  flatter  me.  Countess,"  the  young  man  said, 
"but  indeed  these  events  are  interesting.  Trace 
their  course  for  yourself  after  the  failure  of  Stock- 
holm. The  Kaiser  has  established  certain  relations 
with  the  Socialist  Party.  Once  more  he  turns  to- 
wards them.  He  affects  a  war  weariness  he  does  not 
feel.  He  puts  it  into  their  heads  that  they  shall  ap- 
proach without  molestation  certain  men  in  England 
who  have  a  great  Labour  following.  The  plot  is 
started.  You  know  quite  well  how  it  has  pro- 
gressed." 

"Naturally,"  Catherine  assen-ted,  "but  after  all, 
tell  me,  where  does  the  wonderful  diplomacy  come  in  ? 
The  terms  of  peace  are  not  the  terms  of  a  con- 
queror. Germany  is  to  engage  herself  to  give  up 
what  she  has  sworn  to  hold,  even  to  pay  indemnities, 
to  restore  all  conquered  countries,  and  to  retire  her 
armies  behind  the  Rhine," 

The  young  man  looked  at  his  companion  stead- 
fastly for  several  seconds. 

*'In  the  idiom  of  this  country,  Countess,"  he  said, 
"I  raise  my  hat  to  you.  You  preserve  your  mask 
of  ignorance  to  the  end.  So  much  so,  indeed,  that  I 
find  myself  asking  do  you  really  believe  that  Germany 
intends  to  do  this.?" 

"But   you    forget,"   she   reminded   him.     "I   was 


204  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

one  of  those  present  at  the  discussion  of  the  pre- 
liminaries. The  confirmation  of  the  agreed  terms, 
with  the  signatures,  has  arrived,  and  is  to  be  placed 
before  the  Labour  Council  at  six  o'clock  this  even- 
ing." 

The  young  man  for  a  moment  seemed  puzzled. 
Then  he  glanced  at  a  little  gold  watch  upon  his 
wrist,  knocked  the  cigarette  from  its  holder  and  care- 
fully replaced  the  latter  in  its  case. 

"That  is  very  interesting,  Countess,"  he  said. 
"For  the  moment  I  had  forgotten  your  official  posi- 
tion amongst  tlie  English  Socialists." 

She  leaned  forward  and  touched  his  coat  sleeve. 

"You  had  forgotten  nothing,"  she  declared  eag- 
erly. *'Thcre  is  something  in  your  mind  of  which 
you  have  hot  spoken." 

"No,"  he  replied,  "I  have  spoken  a  great  deal  of 
my  mind — too  much,  perhaps,  considering  that  we 
are  seated  in  this  very  fashionable  lounge,  with  many 
people  around  us.  We  must  talk  of  these  serious 
matters  on  anotlier  occasion.  Countess.  I  shall  pay 
my  respects  to  your  aunt,  if  I  may,  within  the  next 
few  days." 

"Why  do  you  fence  with  me.''"  she  persisted,  draw- 
ing on  her  gloves.  "You  and  I  both  know,  so  far 
as  regards  those  peace  terms,  that — " 

"If  we  both  know,"  he  interrupted,  "let  us  keep 
each  our  own  knowledge.  Words  are  sometimes  very 
dangerous,     and    great    events     are    looming.      So, 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  £05 

Countess !  You  have  perhaps  a  car,  or  may  I  have 
the  pleasure  of  escorting  you  to  your  destination?" 

"I  am  going  to  Westminster,"  she  told  him,  rising 
to  her  feet. 

"In  that  case,"  he  observed,  as  they  made  their 
way  down  the  room,  "perhaps  I  had  better  not  offer 
my  escort,  although  I  should  very  much  like  to  be 
there  in  person.  You  are  amongst  those  to-day  who 
will  make  history." 

"Come  and  see  me  soon,"  she  begged,  dropping  her 
voice  a  little,  "and  I  will  confide  in  you  as  much  as  I 
dare." 

"It  is  tempting,"  he  admitted,  "I  should  like  to 
know  what  passes  at  that  meeting." 

"You  can,  if  you  will,  dine  with  us  to-morrow 
night,"  she  invited,  "at  half-past  eight.  My  aunt 
will  be  delighted  to  see  j^ou.  I  forget  whether  we 
have  people  coming  or  not,  but  you  will  be  very 
welcome." 

The  young  man  bowed  low  as  he  handed  his  charge 
into  a  taxicab. 

"Dear  Countess,"  he  murmured,  "I  shall  be 
charmed." 


CHAPTER  XV 

For  a  gathering  of  men  upon  whose  decision  hung 
such  momentous  issues,  the  Council  which  met  that 
evening  at  Westminster  seemed  alike  unambitious  in 
tone  and  uninspired  in  appearance.  Some  short 
time  was  spent  in  one  of  the  anterooms,  where  Julian 
was  introduced  to  many  of  the  delegates.  The  dis- 
closure of  his  identity,  although  it  aroused  immense 
interest,  was  scarcely  an  unmixed  joy  to  the  ma- 
jority of  them.  Those  who  were  in  earnest — and 
they  mostly  were  in  grim  and  deadly  earnest — had 
hoped  to  find  him  a  man  nearer  their  own  class. 
Fenn  and  Bright  had  their  own  reasons  for  standing 
apart,  and  the  extreme  pacifists  took  note  of  the 
fact  that  he  had  been  a  soldier.  His  coming,  how- 
ever, was  an  event  the  importance  of  which  nobody 
attempted  to  conceal. 

The  Bishop  was  voted  into  the  chair  when  the 
little  company  trooped  into  the  apartment  which  had 
been  set  aside  for  their  more  important  meetings. 
His  election  had  been  proposed  by  Miles  Furley,  and 
as  it  was  announced  that  under  no  circumstances 
would  he  become  a  candidate  for  the  permanent  lead- 
ership of  the  party,  was  agreed  to  without  comment. 
A  few  notes  for  his  guidance  had  been  jotted  down 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  20T 

earlier  in  the  day.  The  great  subject  of  discussion 
was,  of  course,  the  recently  received  communication 
from  an  affiliated  body  of  their  friends  in  Germany, 
copies  of  which  had  been  distributed  amongst  the 
members. 

"I  am  asked  to  explain,"  the  Bishop  announced,  in 
opening  the  proceedings,  **that  this  document  which 
we  all  recognise  as  being  of  surpassing  importance, 
has  been  copied  by  Mr.  Fcnn,  himself,  and  that  since 
copies  have  been  distributed  amongst  the  members, 
the  front  door  of  the  building  has  been  closed  and  the 
telephones  placed  under  surveillance.  It  is  not,  of 
course,  possible  that  any  of  you  could  be  mistrusted, 
but  it  is  of  the  highest  importance  that  neither  the 
Press,  the  Government,  nor  the  people  should  have 
any  indication  of  what  is  transpiring,  until  the  dele- 
gate whom  you  choose  takes  the  initial  step.  It  is 
proposed  that  until  after  his  interview  with  the 
Prime  Minister,  no  delegate  shall  leave  the  place. 
The  question  now  arises,  what  of  the  terms  them- 
selves.'' I  will  ask  each  one  of  you  to  state  his 
views,  commencing  with  Miss  Abbeway." 

Every  one  of  the  twenty-three — or  twenty-four 
now,  including  Julian — had  a  few  words  to  say,  and 
the  tenor  of  their  remarks  was  identical.  For  a 
basis  of  peace  terms,  the  proposals  were  entirely 
reasonable,  nor  did  they  appear  in  any  case  to  be 
capable  of  misconstruction.  They  were  laid  down 
in  eight  clauses. 


208  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

1.  The  complete  evacuation  of  Northern  France 
and  Belgium,  with  full  compensation  for  all 
damage  done. 

2.  Alsace  and  Lorraine  to  determine  their  position 
by  vote  of  the  entire  population. 

3.  Servia  and  Roumania  to  be  reestablished  as  in- 
dependent   kingdoms,    with    such    rectifications 

and  modifications  of  frontier  as  a  joint  com- 
nuittee  should  decide  upon. 

4.  The  German  colonies  to  be  restored. 

5.  The  conquered  parts  of  Mesopotamia  to  re- 
main under  the  protection  of  the  British  Gov- 
ernment. 

6.  Poland  to  be  declared  an  independent  king- 
dom. 

7.  Trieste  and  certain  portions  of  the  Adriatic 
seaboard  to  be  ceded  to  Italy. 

8.  A  world  committee  to  be  at  once  elected  for 
the  purpose  of  working  out  a  scheme  of  in- 
ternational disarmament. 

"We  must  remember,"  Miles  Furley  pointed  out, 
"that  the  present  Government  is  practically  pledged 
not  to  enter  into  peace  negotiations  with  a  Hohen- 
zollern." 

"That,  I  contend,"  the  Bishop  observed,  "is  a 
declaration    which    should    never    have    been    made. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  209 

Whatever  may  be  our  own  feelings  with  regard  to 
the  government  of  Germany,  the  Kaiser  has  held  the 
nation  together  and  is  at  the  present  moment  its 
responsible  head.  If  he  has  had  the  good  sense  to 
yield  to  the  demands  of  his  people,  as  is  proved  by 
this  document,  then  it  is  very  certain  that  the  decla- 
ration must  be  forgotten.  I  have  reason  to  believe, 
however,  that  even  if  the  negotiations  have  been  com- 
menced in  the  name  of  the  Kaiser,  an  immediate 
change  is  likely  to  take  place  in  the  constitution  of 
Germany." 

"Germany's  new  form  of  government,  I  under- 
stand," Fenn  intervened,  "will  be  modelled  upon  our 
own,  which,  after  the  abolition  of  the  House  of 
Lords,  and  the  abnegation  of  the  King's  prerogative, 
will  be  as  near  the  ideal  democracy  as  is  possible. 
That  change  will  be  in  itself  our  most  potent  guar- 
antee against  all  future  wars.  No  democracy  ever 
encouraged  bloodshed.  It  is,  to  my  mind,  a  clearly 
proved  fact  that  all  wars  are  the  result  of  court 
intrigue.  There  will  be  no  more  of  that.  The  pass- 
ing of  monarchical  rule  in  Germany  will  mean  the 
doom  of  all  autocracies." 

There  was  a  little  sympathetic  murmur.  Julian, 
to  whom  Catherine  had  been  wliispering,  next  asked 
a  question. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  "that  no  doubt  can  be  cast 
upon  the  authenticity  of  the  three  signatures  at- 
tached to  this  document?" 


210  THE  DEVIL'S  PAWi 

"That's  been  in  my  own  mind,  Mr.  Fiske — ^least- 
wise, Mr.  Orden,"  Phineas  Cross,  the  Northumbrian, 
remarked,  from  the  other  side  of  the  table. 
"They're  up  to  any  mortal  dodge,  these  Germans. 
Are  we  to  accept  it  as  beyond  all  doubt  that  this 
document  is  entirely  genuine?" 

"How  can  we  do  otherwise?"  Fcnn  demanded. 
"Frcistner,  who  is  responsible  for  it,  has  been  in 
unofficial  correspondence  with  us  since  the  commence- 
ment of  the  war.  AVe  know  his  handwriting,  we 
know  his  character,  we've  had  a  hundred  different 
occasions  to  test  his  earnestness  and  trustworthiness. 
This  document  is  in  his  own  writing  and  accompanied 
by  remarks  and  references  to  previous  correspond- 
ence which  render  its  authenticity  indisputable." 

"Granted  that  the  proposals  themselves  are 
genuine,  there  still  remain  the  three  signatures," 
Julian  observed. 

"Why  should  we  doubt  them?"  Fenn  protested. 
"Freistner  guarantees  them,  and  Freistner  is  our 
friend,  the  friend  and  champion  of  Labour  through- 
out the  world.  To  attempt  to  deceive  us  would  be 
to  cover  himself  with  eternal  obloquy." 

"Yet  these  terms,"  Julian  pointed  out,  "differ  fun- 
damentally from  anything  which  Germany  has  yet  al- 
lowed to  be  made  public." 

"There  are  two  factors  here  which  may  be  con- 
sidered," Miles  Furley  intervened.  "The  first  is  that 
the  economic  condition  of  Germany  is  far  worse  than 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  211 

she  has  allowed  us  to  know.  The  second,  which  is 
even  more  interesting  to  us,  is  the  rapid  growth  in 
influence,  power,  and  numbers  of  the  Socialist  and 
Labour  Party  in  that  country." 

"Of  both  these  factors,"  the  Bishop  reminded 
them,  "we  have  had  very  frequent  hints  from  our 
friends,  the  neutrals.  Let  me  tell  you  all  what  I 
think.  I  think  that  those  terms  are  as  much  as 
we  have  the  right  to  expect,  even  if  our  armies  had 
reached  the  Rhine.  It  is  possible  that  we  might  ob- 
tain some  slight  modifications,  if  we  continued  the 
war,  but  would  those  modifications  be  worth  the  loss 
of  a  few  more  hundred  thousands  of  human  lives,  of  a 
few  more  months  of  this  hideous,  pagan  slaughter  and 
defilement  of  God's  beautiful  world.'"' 

There  was  a  murmur  of  approval.  A  lank,  raw- 
boned  Yorkshireman — David  Sands — a  Wesleyan 
enthusiast,  a  local  preacher,  leaned  across  the  table, 
his  voice  shaking  with  earnestness. 

"It's  true !"  he  exclaimed.  "It's  the  word  of  God ! 
It's  for  us  to  stop  the  war.  If  we  stop  it  to-night 
instead  of  to-morrow,  a  thousand  lives  may  be  saved, 
human  lives,  lives  of  our  fellow  creatures.  Our  fel- 
low labourers  in  Germany  have  given  us  the  chance. 
Don't  let  us  delay  five  minutes.  Let  the  one  of  us 
you  may  select  see  the  Prime  Minister  to-night  and 
deliver  the  people's  message." 

"There's  no  cause  for  delay  that  I  can  see,"  Cross 
approved. 


212  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"There  is  none,"  Fenn  assented  heartily.  "I  pro- 
pose that  we  proceed  to  the  election  of  our  repre- 
sentative; that,  having  elected  him,  we  send  him  to 
the  Prime  Minister  with  our  message,  and  that  we 
remain  here  in  the  building  until  we  have  his  report." 

"You  are  unanimously  resolved,  then,"  the  Bishop 
asked,  "to  take  this  last  step?" 

There  was  a  little  chorus  of  assent.  Fenn  leaned 
forward  in  his  place. 

"Everything  is  ready,"  he  announced.  "Our  ma- 
chinery is  perfect.  Our  agents  in  ever^'  city  await 
the  mandate." 

"But  do  you  imagine  that  those  last  means  will  be 
necessary.''"  the  Bishop  enquired  anxiously. 

"Most  surely  I  do,"  Fenn  replied.  "Remember 
that  if  the  people  make  peace  for  the  country,  it  is 
the  people  who  will  expect  to  govern  the  country. 
It  will  be  a  notice  to  the  politicians  to  quit.  They 
know  that.  It  is  my  belief  that  they  will  resist, 
tooth  and  nail." 

Bright  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"The  Prime  Minister,"  he  announced,  "will  be  at 
Downing  Street  until  nine  o'clock.  It  is  now  seven 
o'clock.  I  propose  that  we  proceed  without  any 
further  delay  to  the  election  of  our  representative." 

"The  voting  cards,"  Fenn  pointed  out,  "are  before 
each  person.  Every  one  has  two  votes,  which  must 
be  for  two  different  representatives.  The  cards 
should  then  be  folded,  and  I  propose  that  the  Bishop, 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  213 

who  is  not  a  candidate,  collect  them.  As  I  read  the 
unwritten  rules  of  this  Congress,  every  one  here  is 
eligible  except  the  Bishop,  Miss  Abbeway,  Mr.  Orden 
and  Mr.  Furley." 

There  was  a  little  murmur.  Phineas  Cross  leaned 
forward  in  his  place. 

"Here,  what's  that?"  he  exclaimed.  "The  Bishop, 
and  Miss  Abbeway,  we  all  know,  are  outside  the  run- 
ning. Mr.  Furley,  too,  represents  the  educated  So- 
cialists, and  though  he  is  with  us  in  this,  he  is  not 
really  Labour.  But  Mr.  Orden — Paul  Fiske,  eh? 
That's  a  different  matter,  isn't  it?" 

"Mr.  Orden,"  Fenn  pronounced  slowly,  "is  a  lit- 
erary man.  He  is  a  sympathiser  with  our  cause,  but 
he  is  not  of  it." 

"If  any  man  has  read  the  message  which  Paul 
Fiske  has  written  with  a  pen  of  gold  for  us,"  Phineas 
Cross  declared,  "and  can  still  say  that  he  is  ri.fc 
one  of  us,  why,  he  must  be  beside  himself.  I  say 
that  Mr.  Orden  is  the  brains  and  the  soul  of  our 
movement.  He  brought  life  and  encouragement  into 
the  north  of  England  with  the  first  article  he  ever 
wrote.  Sinco  then  there  has  not  been  a  man  whom 
the  Labour  Party  that  I  know  anything  of  has  looked 
up  to  and  worshipped  as  they  have  done  him." 

"It's  true,"  David  Sands  broke  in,  "every  word  of 
it.  There's  no  one  has  written  for  Labour  like  him. 
If  he  isn't  Labour,  then  we  none  of  us  arc.  I  don't 
care  whether  he  is  tho  son  of  an  carl,  or  a  plasterer's 


214  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW: 

apprentice,  as  I  was.  He's  the  right  stuff,  he  has 
the  gift  of  putting  the  words  together,  and  his  heart's 
where  it  should  be." 

"There  is  no  one,"  Fenn  said,  his  voice  trembling 
a  little,  "who  has  a  greater  admiration  for  Paul 
Fiske's  writings  than  I  have,  but  I  still  contend  that 
he  is  not  Labour." 

"Sit  down,  lad,"  Cross  enjoined.  "We'll  have  a 
vote  on  that.  I'm  for  saying  that  Mr.  Julian  Orden 
here,  who  has  written  them  articles  under  the  name 
of  'Paul  Fiske',  is  a  full  member  of  our  Council  and 
eligible  to  act  as  our  messenger  to  the  Prime  Minister. 
I  ask  the  Bishop  to  put  it  to  the  meeting." 

Eighteen  were  unanimous  in  agreeing  with  the  mo- 
tion. Fenn  sat  down,  speechless.  His  checks  were 
pallid.  His  hands,  which  rested  upon  the  table,  were 
twitching.  He  seemed  like  a  man  lost  in  thought 
tad  only  remembered  to  fill  up  his  card  when  the 
Bishop  asked  him  for  it.  There  was  a  brief  silence 
whilst  the  latter,  assisted  by  Cross  and  Sands, 
counted  the  votes.  Then  the  Bishop  rose  to  his 
feet. 

"Mr.  Julian  Orden,"  he  announced,  "better  known 
to  you  all  under  the  name  of  'Paul  Fiske',  has  been 
chosen  by  a  large  majority  as  your  representative 
to  take  the  people's  message  to  the  Prime  Minister." 

"I  protest !"  Fenn  exclaimed  passionately.  "This 
is  Mr.  Orden's  first  visit  amongst  us.  He  is  a 
stranger.     I  repeat  that  he  is  not  one  of  us.     Where 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  215 

is  his  power?  He  has  none.  Can  he  do  what  any 
one  of  us  can — stop  the  pulse  of  the  nation?  Can 
he  stUl  its  furnace  fires?  Can  he  empty  the  ship- 
yards and  factories,  hold  the  trains  upon  their  lines, 
bring  the  miners  up  from  under  the  earth?  Can 
he—'' 

*'He  can  do  all  these  things,"  Phineas  Cross  in- 
terrupted, "because  he  speaks  for  us,  our  duly 
elected  representative.  Sit  thee  down,  Fenn.  If 
you  wanted  the  job,  well,  you  haven't  got  it,  and 
that's  all  there  is  about  it,  and  though  you're  as  glib 
with  your  tongue  as  any  here,  and  though  you've 
as  many  at  your  back,  perchance,  as  I  have,  I  tell 
you  I'd  never  have  voted  for  you  if  there  hadn't 
been  another  man  here.  So  put  that  in  your  pipe 
and  smoke  it,  lad." 

"All  further  discussion,"  the  Bishop  ruled,  "is  out 
of  order.     Julian  Orden,  do  you  accept  this  mis- 


sion 


?" 


Julian  rose  to  his  feet.  He  leaned  heavily  upon 
his  stick.     His  expression  was  strangely  disturbed. 

"Bishop,"  he  said,  "and  you,  my  friends,  this  has 
all  come  very  suddenly.  I  do  not  agree  with  Mr. 
Fenn.  I  consider  that  I  am  one  with  you.  I  think 
that  for  the  last  ten  years  I  have  seen  the  place 
which  Labour  should  hold  in  the  political  conduct 
of  the  world.  I  have  seen  the  danger  of  letting  the 
voice  of  the  people  remain  unheard  too  long.  Russia 
to-day  is  a  practical  and  terrible  example  of  that 


216  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW. 

danger.  England  is,  in  her  way,  a  free  country,  and 
our  Government  a  good  one,  but  in  the  world's  his- 
tory there  arrive  sometimes  crises  with  which  no 
stereotyped  form  of  government  can  cope,  when  the 
one  thing  that  is  desired  is  the  plain,  honest  mandate 
of  those  who  count  for  most  in  the  world,  those  who, 
in  their  simplicity  and  in  their  absence  from  all 
political  ties  and  precedents  and  liaisons,  see  the 
truth.  That  is  why  I  have  appealed  with  my  pen 
to  Labour  to  end  this  war.  That  is  whj'  I  shall  go 
willingly  as  your  representative  to  tlie  Prime  Min- 
ister to-night." 

The  Bishop  held  out  his  hand.  There  was  a  little 
reverent  hush,  for  his  words  were  in  the  nature 
of  a  benediction. 

"And  may  God  be  with  you,  our  messenger,"  he 
said  solemnly. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Julian,  duly  embarked  upon  his  mission,  was  kept 
waiting  an  unexpectedly  sliort  time  in  the  large  but 
gloomy  apartment  into  which  Mr.  Stenson's  butler 
had  somewhat  doubtfully  ushered  him.  The  Prime 
Minister  entered  with  an  air  of  slight  hurry.  He 
was  also  somewhat  surprised. 

"My  dear  Orden,"  he  exclaimed,  holding  out  his 
hand,  "what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"A  great  deal,"  Julian  replied  gravely.  "First  of 
all,  though,  I  have  an  explanation  to  make." 

"I  am  afraid,"  Mr.  Stenson  regretted,  "that  I  am 
too  much  engaged  this  evening  to  enter  into  any  per- 
sonal matters.  I  am  expecting  a  messenger  here  on 
very  important  official  business." 

"I  am  that  messenger,"  Julian  announced. 

Mr.  Stenson  started.  His  visitor's  tone  was  ser- 
ious and  convincing. 

"I  fear  that  we  are  at  loggerheads.  It  is  an  en- 
voy from  the  Labour  Party  whom  I  am  expecting." 

"I  am  that  envoy." 

"You.''"  Mr.  Stenson  exclaimed,  in  blank  bewilder- 
ment. 

"I  ought  to  explain  a  little  further,  perhaps.  I 
have  been  writing  on  Labour  questions  for  some 
time  under  the  pseudonym  of  *Paul  Fiske'." 


218  THE  DEVIL'S  PAWi 

"Paul  Fiske?"  Mr.  Stenson  gasped.  "You— Paul 
Fiske?" 

Julian  nodded  assent. 

"You  are  amazed,  of  course,"  he  proceeded,  "but 
it  is  nevertheless  the  truth.  The  fact  has  just  come 
to  light,  and  I  have  been  invited  to  join  this  new 
emergency  Council,  composed  of  one  or  two  Social- 
ists and  Mriters,  amongst  them  a  very  distinguished 
prelate;  Labour  Members  of  Parliament,  and  repre- 
sentatives of  the  various  Trades  Unions,  a  body  of 
men  which  you  doubtless  know  all  about.  I  attended 
a  meeting  at  Westminster  an  hour  ago,  and  I  was 
entrusted  with  this  commission  to  you." 

Mr.  Stenson  sat  down  suddenly. 

"God  bless  my  soul!"  he  exclaimed.  "You — 
Julian  Orden!" 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Mr.  Stenson,  how- 
ever, was  a  man  of  immense  recuperative  powers. 
He  assimilated  the  new  situation  without  further 
protest. 

"You  have  giA^en  me  the  surprise  of  my  life,  Or- 
den," he  confessed.  "That,  however,  is  a  personal 
matter.  Hannaway  Wells  is  in  the  study.  You 
have  no  objection,  I  suppose,  to  his  being  present?" 

"None  whatever." 

Mr.  Stenson  rang  the  bell,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
they  were  joined  by  his  colleague.  The  former 
wasted  no  time  in  explanations. 

"You   will   doubtless  be   as   astonished  as  I  was> 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  219 

Wells,"  he  said,  "to  learn  that  our  friend  Julian 
Orden  comes  here  as  the  representative  of  the  new 
Labour  Council.  His  qualifications,  amongst  oth- 
ers, are  that  under  the  pseudonym  of  *Paul  Fiske* 
he  is  the  writer  of  those  wonderful  articles  which 
have  been  the  beacon  light  and  the  inspiration  of  the 
Labour  Party  for  the  last  year." 

Mr.  Hannaway  Wells  prided  himself  upon  never 
being  surprised.  This  time  the  only  way  he  could 
preserve  his  reputation  was  by  holding  his  tongue. 

"We  are  now  prepared  to  hear  your  mission,"  Mr. 
Stenson  continued,  turning  to  his  visitor. 

"I  imagine,"  Julian  began,  "that  you  know  some- 
thing about  this  new  Labour  Council?" 

"What  little  we  do  know,"  Mr,  Stenson  answered, 
"we  have  learnt  with  great  difficulty  through  our 
secret  service.  I  gather  that  a  small  league  of  men 
has  been  formed  within  a  mile  of  the  Houses  of 
Parliament,  who,  whatever  their  motives  may  be, 
have  been  guilty  of  treasonable  and  traitorous  com- 
munication with  the  enemy." 

"Strictly  speaking,  you  are,  without  doubt,  per- 
fectly right,"  Julian  acknowledged. 

Mr.  Stenson  switched  on  an  electric  light. 

"Sit  down,  Orden,"  he  invited.  "There  is  no  need 
for  us  to  stand  glaring  at  one  another.  There  is 
enough  of  real  importance  in  the  nature  of  our  inter- 
view without  making  melodrama  of  it." 

The  Prime  Minister  threw  himself  into  an  easy- 


220  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

chair.  Julian,  with  a  little  sigh  of  relief,  selected 
a  high-backed  oak  chair  and  rested  his  foot  upon  a 
hassock.  Hannaway  Wells  remained  standing  upon 
the  hearthrug. 

"Straight  into  the  heart  of  it,  please,  Orden,"  Mr. 
Stenson  begged.  "Let  us  know  how  far  this  ac- 
cursed conspiracy  has  gone." 

"It  has  gone  to  very  great  lengths,"  Julian  de- 
clared. "Certain  members  of  this  newly-formed 
Council  of  Labour  have  been  in  communication  for 
some  months  with  the  Socialist  Party  in  Germany. 
From  these  latter  they  have  received  a  definite  and 
authentic  proposal  of  peace,  countersigned  by  the 
three  most  important  men  in  Germany.  That  pro- 
posal of  peace  I  am  here  to  lay  before  you,  with  the 
request  that  you  act  upon  it  without  delay." 

Julian  produced  his  roll  of  papers.  The  two  men 
remained  motionless.  The  great  issue  had  been 
reached  with  almost  paralysing  rapidity. 

"My  advice,"  Mr.  Hannaway  Wells  said  bluntly, 
"is  that  you,  sir," — turning  to  his  Chief — "refuse 
to  discuss  or  consider  these  proposals,  or  to  examine 
that  document.  I  submit  that  you  are  the  head  of 
His  Majesty's  Government,  and  any  communication 
emanating  from  a  foreign  country  should  be  ad- 
dressed to  you.  If  you  ever  consider  this  matter  and 
discuss  it  with  Mr.  Orden  here,  you  associate  your- 
self with  a  traitorous  breach  of  the  law." 

Mr.  Stenson  made  no  immediate  reply.     He  looked 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  ««1 

towards  Julian,  as  though  to  hear  what  he  had  to 
saj. 

"Mr.  Hannaway  Wells's  advice  is,  without  doubt, 
technical]}^  correct,"  Julian  admitted,  "but  the  whole 
subject  is  too  great,  and  the  issues  involved  too 
awful  for  etiquette  or  even  propriety  to  count.  It 
is  for  you,  sir,  to  decide  what  is  best  for  the  country. 
You  commit  yourself  to  nothing  by  reading  the  pro- 
posals, and  I  suggest  that  you  do  so." 

"We  will  read  them,"  Mr.  Stenson  decided. 

Julian  passed  over  the  papers.  The  two  men 
crossed  the  room  and  leaned  over  the  Prime  Min- 
ister's writing  table.  Mr.  Stenson  drew  down  the 
electric  light,  and  they  remained  there  in  close  con- 
fabulation for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Julian 
sat  with  his  back  turned  towards  them  and  his  ears 
closed.  In  this  atmosphere  of  government,  his  own 
position  seemed  to  him  weird  and  fantastic.  A  sense 
of  unreality  cumbered  his  thoughts.  Even  this  brief 
pause  in  the  actual  negotiations  filled  him  with 
doubts.  He  could  scarcely  believe  that  it  was  he 
who  was  to  dictate  terms  to  the  man  who  was  re- 
sponsible for  the  government  of  the  country ;  that  it 
was  he  who  was  to  force  a  decision  pregnant  with 
far-reaching  consequences  to  the  entire  world.  The 
figures  of  Fenn  and  Bright  loomed  up  ominously  be- 
fore him^  however  hard  he  tried  to  push  them  into 
the  ba-ckground.  Was  it  the  mandate  of  such  men 
as  these  that  he  was  carrjnng? 


22a  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

Presently  the  two  Ministers  returned  to  their 
places.  Julian  had  heard  their  voices  for  the  last 
few  minutes  without  being  able  to  distinguish  a  word 
of  their  actual  conversation. 

"We  have  considered  the  document  you  have 
brought,  Orden,"  the  Prime  Minister  said,  "and  we 
frankly  admit  that  we  find  its  contents  surprising. 
The  terms  of  peace  suggested  form  a  perfectly  pos- 
sible basis  for  negotiations.  At  the  same  time,  you 
are  probably  aware  that  it  has  not  been  in  the  mind 
of  His  Majesty's  Ministers  to  discuss  terms  of  peace 
at  all  with  the  present  administration  of  Germany." 

"These  terms,"  Julian  reminded  him,  "are  dictated, 
not  by  the  Kaiser  and  his  advisers,  but  by  the  Social- 
ist and  Labour  Party." 

"It  is  strange,"  Mr.  Stenson  pointed  out,  "that 
we  have  heard  so  little  of  that  Party.  It  is  even 
astonishing  that  we  should  find  them  in  a  position  to 
be  able  to  dictate  terms  of  peace  to  the  Hohenzol- 
lems." 

"You  do  not  dispute  the  authenticity  of  the  docu- 
ment?" Julian  asked. 

"I  will  not  go  so  far  as  that,"  Mr.  Stenson  re- 
plied cautiously.  "Our  secret  service  informed  us 
some  time  ago  that  Freistner,  the  head  of  the  German 
Socialists,  was  in  communication  with  certain  people 
in  this  country.  I  have  no  doubt  whatever  that  these 
are  the  proposals  of  the  authorised  Socialist  Party 
of  Germany.     What  I   do   not   understand  is  how 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  223 

they  have  suddenly  acquired  the  strength  to  induce 
proposals  of  peace  such  as  these." 

"It  has  been  suggested,"  Julian  said,  "that  even 
the  Hohen^ollems,  even  the  military  clique  of  Ger- 
many, see  before  them  now  the  impossibility  of  reap- 
ing the  rewards  of  their  successful  campaigns. 
Peace  is  becoming  a  necessity  to  them.  They  would 
prefer,  therefore,  to  seem  to  yield  to  the  demands  of 
their  own  Socialists  rather  than  to  foreign  pressure." 

"That  may  be  so,"  Mr.  Stenson  admitted.  "Let 
us  proceed.  Tlie  first  part  of  your  duty,  Orden,  is 
finished.     What  else  have  you  to  say.'*" 

"I  am  instructed,"  Julian  announced,  "to  appeal 
to  you  to  sue  at  once,  through  the  Spanish  Ambas- 
sador, for  an  armistice  while  these  terms  are  con- 
sidered and  arrangements  made  for  discussing  them." 

"And  if  I  refuse.?" 

"I  will  not  evade  even  that  question.  Of  the 
twenty-three  members  of  the  new  Council  of  Labour, 
twenty  represent  the  Trades  Unions  of  the  great  in- 
dustries of  the  kingdom.  Those  twenty  will  unani- 
mousl}'  proclaim  a  general  strike,  if  you  should  refuse 
the  proposed  armistice." 

"In  other  words,"  Mr.  Stenson  observed  drily, 
"they  will  scuttle  the  ship  themselves.  Do  you  ap- 
prove of  these  tactics?" 

"I  decline  to  answer  that  question,"  Julian  said, 
"but  I  would  point  out  to  you  that  when  you  ac- 
knowledged yourself  defeated  by  the  miners  of  South 


824i  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

Wales,  you  pointed  the  way  to  some  such  crisis  as 
this." 

"That  may  be  true,"  Mr.  Stenson  acknowledged. 
"I  have  only  at  this  moment,  however,  to  deal  with 
the  present  condition  of  affairs.  Do  you  seriously 
believe  that,  if  I  make  the  only  answer  which  at 
present  seems  to  me  possible,  the  Council  of  Labour, 
as  they  call  themselves,  will  adopt  the  measures  they 
threaten  ?" 

"I  believe  that  they  will,"  Julian  declared  gravely. 
"I  believe  that  the  country  looks  upon  any  continu- 
ation of  this  war  as  a  continuation  of  unnecessary 
and  ghastly  slaughter.  To  appreciably  change  the 
military  situation  would  mean  the  sacrifice  of  millions 
more  lives,  would  mean  the  continuation  of  the  war 
for  another  two  years.  I  believe  that  the  people  of 
Germany  who  count  are  of  the  same  opinion.  I  be- 
lieve that  the  inevitable  change  of  government  in 
Germany  will  show  us  a  nation  freed  from  this 
hideous  lust  for  conquest,  a  nation  with  whom,  when 
she  is  purged  of  the  poison  of  these  last  years,  we 
can  exist  fraternally  and  with  mutual  benefit." 

"You  are  a  very  sanguine  man,  Mr.  Orden," 
Hannaway  Wells  remarked. 

"I  have  never  found,"  Julian  replied,  *'that  the 
pessimist  walks  with  his  head  turned  towards  the 
truth." 

"How  long  have  I,"  the  Prime  Minister  asked, 
after  a  brief  pause,  "for  my  reply.''" 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  225 

"Twenty-four  hours,"  Julian  told  him,  **during 
which  time  it  is  hoped  that  you  will  communicate 
with  our  Allies  and  pave  the  way  for  a  further  un- 
derstanding. The  Council  of  Labour  asks  you  for 
no  pledge  as  to  their  safety.  We  know  quite  well 
that  all  of  us  are,  legally  speaking,  guilty  of  treason. 
On  the  other  hand,  a  single  step  towards  the  curtail- 
ment of  our  liberties  will  mean  the  paralysis  of  every 
industry  in  the  United  Kingdom." 

"I  realise  the  position  perfectly,"  Mr.  Stenson  ob- 
served drily.  "I  do  not  exactly  know  what  to  say 
to  you  personal!}',  Orden,"  he  added.  "Perhaps  it  is 
as  well  for  us  that  the  Council  should  have  chosen 
an  ambassador  vnth  whom  discussion,  at  any  rate,  is 
possible.  Nevertheless,  I  feel  bound  to  remind  you 
that  you  have  taken  upon  your  shoulders,  consider- 
ing your  birth  and  education,  one  of  the  most  per- 
ilous loads  which  any  man  could  carry." 

"I  have  weighed  the  consequences,"  Julian  replied, 
with  a  sudden  and  curious  sadness  in  his  tone.  *'I 
know  how  the  name  of  'pacifist'  stinks  in  the  nostrils. 
I  know  how  far  we  are  committed  as  a  nation  to  a 
peace  won  by  force  of  arms.  I  know  how  our  British 
blood  boils  at  the  thought  of  leaving  a  foreign  coun- 
try with  as  man}'  military  advantages  as  Germany 
has  acquired.  But  I  feel,  too,  that  there  is  the 
other  side.  I  have  brought  you  evidence  that  it  is 
not  the  German  nation  against  whom  we  fight,  man 
against  man,  human  being  against  human  being.     It 


^26  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

is  my  belief  that  autocracy  and  the  dynasty  of  the 
Hohenzollerns  will  crumble  into  ruin  as  a  result  of 
to-day's  negotiations,  just  as  surely  as  though  we 
sacrificed  God  knows  how  many  more  lives  to  achieve 
a  greater  measure  of  military  triumph." 

The  Prime  Minister  rang  the  bell. 

"You  are  an  honest  man,  Julian  Orden,"  he  said, 
*'and  a  decent  emissary.  You  will  reply  that  we  take 
the  twenty-four  hours  for  reflection.  That  means 
that  we  shall  meet  at  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  evening." 

He  held  out  his  hand  in  farewell,  an  action  which 
somehow  sent  Julian  away  a  happier  man. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Julian,  on  the  morning  following  his  visit  to  the 
Prime  Minister,  was  afflicted  with  a  curious  and  per- 
sistent unrest.  He  travelled  down  to  the  Temple 
and  found  Miles  Furley  in  a  room  hung  with  to- 
bacco smoke  and  redolent  of  a  late  night. 

"Miles,"  Julian  declared,  as  the  two  men  shook 
hands,  *'I  can't  rest." 

"I  am  in  the  same  fix,"  Furley  admitted.  "I  sat 
here  till  four  o'clock.  Phineas  Cross  came  around, 
and  half-a-dozen  of  the  others.  I  felt  I  must  talk 
to  them,  I  must  keep  on  hammering  it  out.  We're 
right,  Julian.     We  must  be  right !" 

"It's  a  ghastly  responsibility.  I  wonder  what  his- 
tory will  have  to  say." 

"That's  the  worst  of  it,"  Furley  groaned. 
"They'll  have  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  whole  affair, 
those  people  who  write  our  requiem  or  our  eulogy. 
You  noticed  the  Press  this  morning?  They're  all 
hinting  at  some  great  move  in  the  West.  It's  about 
in  the  clubs.  Why,  I  even  heard  last  night  that  we 
were  in  Ostend.  It's  all  a  rig,  of  course.  Stenson 
wants  to  gain  time." 

"Who  opened  these  negotiations  with  Freistner  .'*" 
Julian   asked. 


'228  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"Fenn.  He  met  him  at  the  Geneva  Conference, 
the  year  before  the  war.  I  met  him,  too,  but  I 
didn't  see  so  much  of  him.  He's  a  fine  fellow, 
Julian — as  unlike  the  typical  German  as  any  man 
you  ever  met." 

"He's  honest,  I  suppose  ?" 

"As  the  day  itself,"  was  the  confident  reply.  "He 
has  been  in  prison  twice,  you  know,  for  plain  speak- 
ing. He  is  the  one  man  in  Germany  who  has  fought 
the  war,  tooth  and  nail,  from  the  start." 

Julian  caught  his  friend  by  the  shoulder. 

"Miles,"  he  said, — "straight  from  the  bottom  of 
your  heart,  mind — you  do  believe  we  are  justified.'"' 

"I  have  never  doubted  it." 

"You  know  that  we  have  practicall}^  created  a 
revolution — that  we  have  established  a  dictatorship.'* 
Stenson  must  obey  or  face  anarchy." 

"It  is  the  voice  of  the  people,"  Furley  declared. 
"I  am  convinced  that  we  are  justified.  I  am  con- 
vinced of  the  inutility  of  the  prolongation  of  this 
war." 

Julian  drew  a  little  sigh  of  relief. 

"Don't  think  I  am  weakening,"  he  said.  "Re- 
member, I  am  new  to  this  thing  in  practice,  even 
though  I  may  be  responsible  for  some  of  the  theory." 

"It  is  the  people  who  are  the  soundest  directors  of 
a  nation's  policy,"  Furley  pronounced.  "High 
politics  becomes  too  much  like  a  game  of  chess, 
hedged  all  around  with  etiquette  and  precedent.     It's 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  229 

human  life  we  want  to  save,  Julian.  People  don't 
stop  to  realise  the  horrible  tragedy  of  even  one 
man's  death — one  man  with  his  little  circle  of  rela- 
tives and  friends.  In  the  game  of  war  one  forgets. 
Human  beings — men  from  the  toiler's  bench,  the  car- 
penter's bench,  from  behind  the  counter,  from  the 
land,  from  the  mine — don  khaki,  become  soldiers, 
and  there  seems  something  different  about  them.  So 
many  human  lives  gone  every  day ;  just  soldiers,  just 
the  toll  we  have  to  pay  for  a  slight  advance  or  a 
costly  retreat.  And,  my  God,  every  one  of  them, 
underneath  their  khaki,  is  a  human  being !  The  pol- 
iticians don't  grasp  it,  Julian.  That's  our  justifi- 
cation. The  day  that  armistice  is  signed,  several 
hundred  lives  at  least — perhaps  thousands — will  be 
saved ;  for  several  hundred  women  the  sun  will  con- 
tinue to  shine.  Parents,  sweethearts,  children — all 
of  them — think  what  they  will  be  spared !" 

"I  am  a  man  again,"  Julian  declared.  "Come 
along  round  to  Westminster.  There  are  many 
things  I  want  to  ask  about  the  Executive." 

They  drove  round  to  the  great  building  which  had 
been  taken  over  by  the  different  members  of  the 
Labour  Council.  The  representative  of  each 
Trades  Union  had  his  own  office,  staff  of  clerks  and 
private  telephone.  Fenn,  who  greeted  the  two  men 
with  a  rather  excessive  cordiality,  constituted  him- 
self their  cicerone.  He  took  them  from  room  to 
room   and   waited   while   Julian   exchanged   remarks 


230  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

with  some  of  the  delegates  whom  he  had  not  met 
personally'. 

"Every  one  of  our  members,"  Fenn  pointed  out, 
"is  in  direct  communication  with  the  local  secretary 
of  each  town  in  which  his  industry  is  represented. 
You  see  these.'"' 

He  paused  and  laid  his  hand  on  a  little  heap  of 
telegraph  forms,  on  which  one  word  was  typed. 

"These,"  he  continued,  "are  all  ready  to  be  dis- 
patched the  second  that  we  hear  from  Mr.  Stenson — 
that  is  to  say  if  wc  should  hear  unfavourably.  They 
are  divided  into  batches,  and  each  batch  will  be  sent 
from  a  different  post-office,  so  that  there  shall  be  no 
delay.  We  calculate  that  in  seven  hours,  at  the 
most,  the  industrial  pulse  of  the  country  will  have 
ceased  to  beat." 

"How  long  has  your  organisation  taken  to  build 
up.''"  Julian  enquired. 

"Exactly  three  months,"  David  Sands  observed, 
turning  around  in  his  swing  chair  from  the  desk  at 
which  he  had  been  writing.  "The  scheme  was 
started  a  few  days  after  your  article  in  the  British. 
We  took  your  motto  as  our  text — 'Coordination  and 
cooperation.'  " 

They  found  their  way  into  the  clubroom,  and  at 
luncheon,  later  on,  Julian  strove  to  improve  his  ac- 
quaintance with  the  men  who  were  seated  around 
him.  Some  of  them  were  Members  of  Parliament 
with  well-known  names,  others  were  intensely  local. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  231 

but  all  seemed  earnest  and  clear-sighted.  Phineas 
Cross  commenced  to  talk  about  war  generally.  He 
had  just  returned  from  a  visit  with  other  Labour 
Members  to  the  front,  although  it  is  doubtful 
whether  the  result  had  been  exactly  in  accordance 
with  the  intentions  of  the  powers  who  had  invited 
him. 

"I'll  tell  you  something  about  war,"  he  said, 
"which  contradicts  most  every  other  experience. 
There's  scarcely  a  great  subject  in  the  world  which 
you  don't  have  to  take  as  a  whole,  and  from  the 
biggest  point  of  view,  to  appreciate  it  thoroughly. 
It's  exactly  diff'erent  with  war.  If  you  want  to 
understand  more  than  the  platitudes,  you  want  to 
just  take  in  one  section  of  the  fighting.  Say  there 
are  fifty  Englishmen,  decent  fellows,  been  dragged 
from  their  posts  as  commercial  travellers  or  small 
tradesmen  or  labourers  or  what-not,  and  they  get 
mixed  up  with  a  similar  number  of  Germans.  Those 
Germans  ain't  the  fiends  we  read  about.  They're  not 
bubbling  over  with  militarism.  They  don't  want  to 
lord  it  over  all  the  world.  They've  exactly  the  same 
tastes,  the  same  outlook  upon  life  as  the  fift}'  English- 
men whom  an  iron  hand  has  been  forcing  to  do 
their  best  to  kill.  Those  English  chaps  didn't  want 
to  kill  anybody,  any  more  than  the  Germans  did. 
They  had  to  do  it,  too,  simply  because  it  was  part 
of  the  game.  There  was  a  handful  of  German  pris- 
oners I  saw,  talking  with  their  guard  and  exchang- 


232  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

ing  smokes.  One  was  a  barber  in  a  country  town. 
The  man  who  had  him  in  tow  was  an  English  barber. 
Bless  you,  they  were  talking  like  one  o'clock !  That 
German  barber  didn't  want  anything  in  life  except 
plenty  to  eat  and  drink,  to  be  a  good  husband  and 
good  father,  and  to  save  enough  money  to  buy  a  little 
house  of  his  own.  The  Englishman  was  just  the 
same.  He'd  as  soon  have  had  that  German  for  a 
pal  for  a  day's  fishing  or  a  walk  in  the  country,  as 
any  one  else.  They'd  neither  of  them  got  anything 
against  the  other.  Where  the  hell  is  this  spirit  of 
hatred?  You  go  down  the  line,  mile  after  mile,  and 
most  little  groups  of  men  facing  one  another  are 
just  the  same.  Here  and  there,  there's  some  bitter 
feeling,  through  some  fighting  that's  seemed  unfair, 
but  that's  nothing.  The  fact  remains  that  those 
millions  of  men  don't  hate  one  another,  that  they've 
got  nothing  to  hate  one  another  about,  and  they're 
being  driven  to  slaughter  one  another  like  savage 
beasts.  For  what.''  IMr.  Stenson  might  supply  an. 
answer.  Your  great  editors  might.  Your  great 
Generals  could  be  glib  about  it.  They  could  spout 
volumes  of  words,  but  there's  no  substance  about 
them.  I  say  that  in  this  generation  there's  no 
call  for  fighting,  and  there  didn't  ought  to  be 
any." 

"You  are  not  only  right,  but  you  are  splendidly 
right,  Mr.  Cross,"  Julian  declared.  "It's  human 
talk,  that." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  2SS 

"It*s  just  a  plain  man's  words  and  thoughts," 
was  the  simple  reply. 

**And  yet,"  Fenn  complained,  in  his  thin  voice,  "if 
I  talk  like  that,  they  call  me  a  pacifist,  a  lot  of 
rowdies  get  up  and  sing  'Rule  Britannia',  and  try  to 
chivy  me  out  of  the  hall  where  I'm  speaking." 

*'You  see,  there's  a  difference,  lad,"  Cross  pointed 
out,  setting  down  the  tankard  of  beer  from  which 
he  had  been  drinking.  "You  talk  sometimes  that 
white-livered  stuff  about  not  hitting  a  man  back  if 
he  wants  to  hit  you,  and  3'ou  drag  in  your  conscience, 
and  prate  about  all  men  being  brothers,  and  that 
sort  of  twaddle,  A  full-blooded  Englishman  don't 
like  it,  because  we  are  all  of  us  out  to  protect  what 
we've  got,  any  way  and  anyhow.  But  that  doesn't 
alter  the  fact  that  there's  something  wrong  in  the 
world  when  we're  driven  to  do  this  protecting  business 
wholesale  and  being  forced  into  murdering  on  a  scale 
which  only  devils  could  have  thought  out  and 
imagined.  It's  the  men  at  the  top  that  are  re- 
sponsible for  this  war,  and  when  people  come  to 
reckon  up,  they'll  say  that  there  was  blame  up  at 
the  top  in  the  Government  of  every  Power  that's 
fighting,  but  there  was  a  damned  sight  more  blame 
amongst  the  Germans  than  any  of  the  others,  and 
that's  why  many  a  hundred  thousand  of  our  young 
men  who've  loathed  the  war  and  felt  about  it  as  I 
do  have  gone  and  done  their  bit  and  kept  their 
mouths  shut." 


£34  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"You  cannot  deny,"  Fenn  argued,  "that  war  is 
contrary  to  Christianity." 

"I  dunno,  lad,"  Cross  replied,  winking  across  the 
table  at  Julian.  "Seems  to  me  there  was  a  power- 
ful lot  of  fighting  in  the  Old  Testament,  and  the 
Lord  was  generally  on  one  side  or  the  other.  But 
you  and  I  ain't  going  to  bicker,  Mr.  Fenn.  The 
first  decision  this  Council  came  to,  when  it  embraced 
more  than  a  dozen  of  us  of  very  opposite  ways 
of  thinking,  was  to  keep  our  mouths  shut  about  our 
own  ideas  and  stick  to  business.  So  give  me  a  fill  of 
baccy  from  your  pipe,  and  we'll  have  a  cup  of  coffee 
together." 

Julian's  pouch  was  first  upon  the  table,  and  the 
Northumbrian  filled  his  pipe  in  leisurely  fashion. 

"Good  stuff,  sir,"  he  declared  approvingly,  as  he 
passed  it  back.  "After  dinner  I  am  mostly  a  man 
of  peace — even  when  Fenn  comes  yapping  around," 
he  added,  looking  after  the  disappearing  figure  of 
the  secretary.  "But  I  make  no  secret  of  this.  I 
tumbled  to  it  from  the  first  that  this  was  a  great 
proposition,  this  amalgamation  of  Labour.  It 
makes  a  power  of  us,  even  though  it  may,  as  you, 
Mr.  Orden,  said  in  one  of  your  articles,  bring  us  to 
the  gates  of  revolution.  But  it  was  all  I  could  do 
to  bring  myself  to  sit  down  at  the  same  table 
with  Fenn  and  his  friend  Bright.  You  see,"  he 
explained,    "there    may    be    times    when    you    are 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  236 

forced  into  doing  a  thing  that  fundamentally  you 
disapprove  of  and  you  know  is  wrong.  I  dis- 
approve of  this  war,  and  I  know  it's  wrong — 
it's  a  foul  mess  that  we've  been  got  into  by  those 
who  should  have  known  better — but  I  ain't  like  Fenn 
about  it.  We're  in  it,  and  we've  got  to  get  out  of 
it,  not  like  cowards  but  like  Englishmen,  and  if  fight- 
ing had  been  the  only  way  through,  then  I  should 
have  been  for  fighting  to  the  last  gasp.  Fortun- 
ately, we've  got  into  touch  with  the  sensible  folk 
on  the  other  side.  If  we  hadn't — well,  I'll  say  no 
more  but  that  I've  got  two  boys  fighting  and  one 
buried  at  Ypres,  and  I've  another,  though  he's  over 
young,  doing  his  drill." 

"Mr.  Cross,"  Julian  said,  "you've  done  me  more 
good  than  any  one  I've  talked  to  since  the  war 
began." 

"That's  right,  lad,"  Cross  replied.  "You  get 
straight  words  from  me;  and  not  only  that,  you  get 
tlie  words  of  another  million  behind  me,  who  feel 
as  I  do.  But,"  he  added,  glancing  across  the  room 
and  lowering  his  voice,  "keep  3^our  eye  on  that  artful 
devil,  Fenn.  He  doesn't  bear  you  any  particular 
good  will." 

"He  wasn't  exactly  a  hospitable  gaoler,"  Julian 
reminiscently  observed. 

"I'm  not  speaking  of  that  only,"  Cross  went  on. 
"There  wasn't  one  of  us  who  didn't  vote  for  squeez- 
ing that  document  out  of  you  one  wa}^  or  the  other, 


236  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

and  if  it  had  been  necessary  to  screw  3our  neck  off 
for  it,  I  don't  know  as  one  of  us  would  have  hesitated, 
for  you  were  standing  between  us  and  the  big  thing. 
But  he  and  that  httle  skunk  Bright  ain't  to  be 
trusted,  in  my  mind,  and  it  seems  to  me  they've  got  a 
down  on  you.  Fenn  counted  on  being  head  of  this 
Council,  for  one  thing,  and  there's  a  matter  of  a 
young  woman,  eh,  for  another?" 

"A  young  woman?"  Julian  repeated. 

Cross  nodded. 

"The  Russian  young  person — Miss  Abbeway,  she 
calls  herself.  Fenn's  been  lior  lap-dog  round  here — 
takes  her  out  to  dine  and  that.  It's  just  a  word  of 
warning,  that's  all.  You're  new  amongst  us,  Mr. 
Orden,  and  you  might  think  us  all  honest  men. 
Well,  we  ain't ;  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

Julian  recovered  from  a  momentary  fit  of  astonish- 
ment. 

"I  am  much  obliged  to  jou  for  your  candour, 
Mr.  Cross,"  he  said. 

"And  never  you  mind  about  the  '^ir.',  sir,"  the 
Northumbrian  begged. 

"Nor  you  about  the  *sir',"  Julian  retorted,  with  a 
smile. 

"Middle  stump,"  Cross  acknowledged.  *'And 
since  we  are  on  tlie  subject,  my  new  friend,  let  me  tell 
you  this.  To  feel  perfectly  happy  about  this  Coun- 
cil, there's  just  three  as  I  should  like  to  see  out  of 
it — Fenn,  Bright — and  the  young  lady." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  «37 

"Why  the  young  lady  ?"  Julian  asked  quickly. 

"You  might  as  well  ask  me,  *Why  Fenn  and 
Bright?'  "  the  other  replied.  "I  shouldn't  make  no 
answer.  We're  superstitious,  you  know,  we  north 
country  folk,  and  we  are  all  for  instincts.  All  I 
can  say  to  you  is  that  there  isn't  one  of  those  three 
I'd  trust  around  the  corner." 

"Miss  AbbeAvay  is  surely  above  suspicion?" 
Julian  protested.  "She  has  given  up  a  great  posi- 
tion and  devoted  the  greater  part  of  her  fortune 
towards  the  causes  which  you  and  I  and  all  of  us  are 
working  for." 

"There'd  be  plenty  of  work  for  her  in  Russia 
just  now,"  Cross  observed. 

"No  person  of  noble  birth,"  Julian  reminded  him, 
"has  the  slightest  chance  of  working  effectively  in. 
Russia  to-day.  Besides,  Miss  Abbeway  is  half 
English.  Failing  Russia,  she  would  naturally  select 
this  as  the  country  in  which  she  could  do  most 
good." 

Some  retort  seemed  to  fade  away  upon  the  other's 
lips.  His  shaggy  eyebrows  werie  drawn  a  little 
closer  together  as  he  glanced  towards  the  door. 
Julian  followed  the  direction  of  his  gaze.  Cath- 
erine had  entered  and  was  looking  around  as  though 
in  search  of  some  one. 

Catherine  was  more  heavily  veiled  than  usual. 
Her  dress  and  hat  were  of  sombre  black,  and  her  man- 
ner  nervous    and   disturbed.      She    came   slowlv    to- 


238  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

wards  their  end  of  the  table,  although  she  was  ob- 
viously in  search  of  some  one  else. 

"Do  you  happen  to  know  where  Mr.  Fenn  is?" 
she  enquired. 

Julian   raised  his  eyebrows. 

"Fenn  was  here  a  few  minutes  ago,"  he  replied, 
"but  he  left  us  abruptly.  I  fancy  that  he  rather 
disapproved  of  our  conversation." 

"He  has  gone  to  his  room  perhaps,"  she  said.  "I 
will  go  upstairs." 

She  turned  away.  Julian,  however,  followed  her 
to  the  door. 

"Shall  I  see  you  again  before  you  leave.''"  he 
asked. 

"Of  course — if  you  wish  to." 

There  was  a  moment's  perceptible  pause. 

"Won't  you  come  upstairs  with  me  to  Mr.  Fenn's 
room?"  she  continued. 

"Not  if  your  business  is  in  any  way  private." 

She  began  to  ascend  the  stairs. 

"It  isn't  private,"  she  said,  "but  I  particularly 
want  Mr.  Fenn  to  tell  me  something,  and  as  you 
know,  he  is  peculiar.  Perhaps,  if  3'ou  don't  mind, 
it  would  be  better  if  you  waited  for  me  down- 
stairs." 

Julian's  response  was  a  little  vague.  She  left 
him,  however,  without  appearing  to  notice  his  reluc- 
tance and  knocked  at  the  door  of  Fenn's  room. 
She  found  him  seated  behind  a  desk,  dictating  some 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

letters  to  a  stenographer,  whom  he  waved  away  at 
her  entrance. 

"Delighted  to  see  3'ou,  Miss  Abbeway."  he  de- 
clared impressively,  "delighted  !  Come  and  sit  down, 
please,  and  talk  to  me.  We  have  had  a  tremendous 
morning.  Even  though  the  machine  is  all  ready  to 
start,  it  needs  a  watchful  hand  all  the  time." 

She  sank  into  the  chair  from  which  he  had  swept 
a  pile  of  papers  and  raised  her  veil. 

"Mr.  Fenn,"  she  confessed.  "I  came  to  you  be- 
cause I  have  been  very  worried." 

He  withdrew  a  little  into  himself.  His  eyes  nar- 
rowed.    His  manner  became  more  cautious. 

"Worried?"  he  repeated.     "Well?" 

"I  want  to  ask  you  this :  have  you  heard  anything 
from  Freistner  during  the  last  day  or  two?" 

Fenn's  face  was  immovable.  He  still  showed  no 
signs  of  discomposure — his  voice  only  was  not  alto- 
gether natural. 

"Last  day  or  two?"  he  repeated  reflectively. 
*'No,  I  can't  say  that  I  have.  Miss  Abbeway.  I 
needn't  remind  you  that  we  don't  risk  communica- 
tions except  when  they  are  necessar3%" 

"Will  you  try  and  get  into  touch  with  him  at 
once?"  she  beo-ffed. 

"Why?"  Fenn  asked,  glancing  at  her  search- 
ingly. 

"One  of  our  Russian  writers,'*  she  said,  *'once 
wrote  that  there  are  a  thousand  eddies  in  the  winds 


240  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

of  chance.  One  of  those  has  blown  my  way  to-day — 
or  rather  yesterday.  Freistner  is  above  all  sus- 
picion, is  he  not?" 

"Far  above,"  was  the  confident  reply.  "I  am  not 
the  only  one  who  knows  him.     Ask  the  others." 

"Do  you  think  it  possible  that  he  himself  can  have 
been  deceived?"  she  persisted. 

"In  what  manner?" 

"In  his  own  strength — the  strength  of  his  own 
Party,"  she  proceeded  eagerly.  "Do  you  think  it 
possible  that  the  Imperialists  have  pretended  to  rec- 
ognise in  him  a  far  greater  factor  in  the  situation 
than  he  really  is?  Have  pretended  to  acquiesce  in 
these  terms  of  peace  with  the  intention  of  repudiating 
them  when  we  have  once  gone  too  far?" 

Fenn  seemed  for  a  moment  to  have  shrunk  in  his 
chair.  His  eyes  had  fallen  before  her  passionate 
gaze.  The  penholder  which  he  was  grasping  snapped 
in  his  fingers.  Nevertheless,  his  voice  still  per- 
formed its  office. 

"My  dear  Miss  Abbcway,"  he  protested,  "who  or 
what  has  been  putting  these  ideas  into  your  liead?" 

"A  veritable  chance,"  she  replied,  "brought  me 
yesterday  afternoon  into  contact  with  a  man — a  neu- 
tral— who  is  supposed  to  be  very  intimately  ac- 
quainted with  what  goes  on  in  Germany." 

"What  did  he  tell  you?"  Fenn  demanded  feverishly. 

"He  told  me  nothing,"  she  admitted.  "I  have  no 
more  to  go  on  than  an  uplifted  eyebrow.     All  the 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  241 

same,  I  came  away  feeling  uneasy.  I  have  felt 
wretched  ever  since.  I  am  wretched  no^.  I  beg  you 
to  get  at  once  into  touch  with  Freistner.  You  can 
do  that  now  without  any  risk.  Simply  ask  him  for 
a  confirmation  of  the  existing  situation." 

"That  is  quite  easy,"  Fenn  promised.  "I  will  do 
it  without  delay.  But  in  the  meantime,"  he  added, 
moistening  his  dry  lips,  "can't  you  possibly  get  to 
know  what  this  man — this  neutral — is  driving  at,-*" 

"I  fear  not,"  she  replied,  "but  I  shall  try.  I  have 
invited  him  to  dine  to-night." 

"If  3-0U  discover  anything,  when  shall  you  let  us 
know.?" 

"Immediately,"  she  promised.  "I  shall  telephone 
for  Mr.  Orden." 

For  a  moment  he  lost  control  of  himself. 

"Why  Mr.  Orden.'"  he  demanded  passionately. 
"He  is  the  youngest  member  of  the  Council.  He 
knows  nothing  of  our  negotiations  with  Freistner. 
Surely  I  am  the  person  with  whom  you  should  com- 
municate?" 

"It  will  be  very  late  to-night,"  she  reminded  him, 
"and  INIr.  Orden  is  my  personal  friend — outside  the 
Council." 

"And  am  I  not?"  he  asked  fiercely.  "I  want  to 
be.     I  have  tried  to  be." 

She  appeared  to  find  his  agitation  disconcerting, 
and  she  withdrew  a  little  from  the  yellow-stained 
fingers  which  had  crept  out  towards  hers. 


242  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"We  are  all  friends,"  she  said  evasively.  "Per- 
haps— if  there  is  anything  important,  then — I  will 
come,  or  send  for  you." 

He  rose  to  his  feet, — less,  it  seemed,  as  an  act  of 
courtesy  in  view  of  her  departure,  than  with  the 
intention  of  some  further  movement.  He  suddenly 
reseated  himself,  however,  his  fingers  grasped  at  the 
air,  lie  became  ghastly  pale. 

*'Are  you  ill,  Mr.  Fenn.^"  she  exclaimed. 

He  poured  himself  out  a  glass  of  water  with  trem- 
bling fingers  and  drank  it  unsteadily. 

"Nerves,  I  suppose,"  he  said.  "I've  had  to  carry 
the  whole  burden  of  these  negotiations  upon  my 
shoulders,  with  very  little  help  from  any  one,  with 
none  of  the  sympathy — 'that  counts." 

A  momentary  impulse  of  kindness  did  battle  with 
her  invincible  dislike  of  the  man. 

"You  must  remember,"  she  urged,  "that  yours  is 
a  glorious  work ;  that  our  thoughts  and  gratitude  are 
with  you." 

"But  are  they.?"  he  demanded,  with  another  little 
burst  of  passion.  "Gratitude,  indeed !  If  the 
Council  feel  that,  why  was  I  not  selected  to  approach 
the  Prime  Minister  instead  of  Julian  Orden.?  Sym- 
pathy !  If  you,  the  one  person  from  whom  I  desire 
it,  have  any  to  offer,  why  can  you  not  be  kinder? 
Why  can  you  not  respond,  ever  so  little,  to  what  I 
feel  for  you?" 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  seeking  for  the  words 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  243 

which  would  hurt  him  least.  Tactless  as  ever,  he  mis- 
understood her. 

"I  may  have  had  one  small  check  in  my  career," 
he  continued  eagerly,  "but  the  game  is  not  finished. 
Believe  me,  I  have  still  great  cards  up  my  sleeve.  I 
know  that  you  have  been  used  to  wealth  and  luxury. 
Miss  Abbeway,"  he  went  on,  his  voice  dropping  to 
a  hoarse  whisper,  "I  was  not  boasting  the  other 
night.  I  have  saved  monej',  I  have  speculated  for- 
tunately— I — " 

The  look  in  her  eyes  stifled  his  eloquence.  He 
broke  off  in  his  speech — became  dumb  and  voiceless. 

"Mr.  Fenn,"  she  said,  "once  and  for  all  this  sort 
of  conversation  is  distasteful  to  me.  A  great  deal 
of  what  you  say  I  do  not  understand.  What  I  do 
understand,  I   dislike." 

She  left  him,  with  an  inscrutable  look.  He  made 
no  effort  to  open  the  door  for  her.  He  simply  stood 
listening  to  her  departing  footsteps,  listened  to  the 
shrill  summons  of  the  lift-bell,  listened  to  the  lift  it- 
self go  clanging  downwards.  Then  he  resumed  his 
seat  at  his  desk.  With  his  hands  clasped  nervously 
together,  an  ink  smear  upon  his  cheek,  his  mouth 
slightly  open,  disclosing  his  irregular  and  discoloured 
teeth,  he  was  not  by  any  means  a  pleasant  looking 
object. 

He  blew  down  a  tube  by  his  side  and  gave  a  mut- 
tered order.  In  a  few  minutes  Bright  presented  him- 
self. 


244.  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"I  am  busy."  the  latter  observed  curtly,  as  he 
closed  the  door  behind  him. 

"You've  got  to  be  busier  in  a  few  minutes,"  was 
the  harsh  reply.  ''There's  a  screw  loose  some- 
where." 

Bright    stood   motionless. 

"Any  one  been  disagreeable?"  he  asked,  after  a 
moment's  pause. 

"Get  down  to  your  office  at  once,"  Fenn  directed 
briefly.  "Have  Miss  Abbeway  followed.  I  want  re- 
ports of  her  movements  every  hour.  I  shall  be  here 
all  night." 

Bright  grinned  unpleasantly. 

"Another  Samson,  eh?" 

"Go  to  Hell,  and  do  as  you're  told !"  was  the 
fierce  reply.  "Put  your  best  men  on  the  job.  I 
must  know,  for  all  our  sakes,  the  name  of  the  neutral 
whom  Miss  Abbeway  sees  to-night  and  with  whom  she 
is  exchanging  confidences." 

Bright  left  the  room  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 
Nicholas  Fenn  turned  up  the  electric  light,  pulled 
out  a  bank  book  from  the  drawer  of  his  desk,  and, 
throwing  it  on  to  the  fire,  watched  it  until  it  was 
consumed. 


CHAPTER  XVni 

The  Baron  Hellman,  comfortably  seated  at  the 
brilliantly  decorated  round  dining  table,  between 
Catherine,  on  one  side,  and  a  lady  to  whom  he  had 
not  been  introduced,  contemplated  the  menu  through 
his  immovable  eyeglass  with  satisfaction,  unfolded  his 
napkin,  and  continued  the  conversation  with  his  hos- 
tess, a  few  places  away,  which  the  announcement  of 
dinner  had  interrupted. 

"You  are  quite  right,  Princess,"  he  admitted. 
*'The  position  of  neutrals,  especially  in  the  diplo- 
matic world,  becomes,  in  the  case  of  a  war  like  this, 
most  difficult  and  sometimes  embarrassing.  To  pre- 
serve a  correct  attitude  is  often  a  severe  strain  upon 
one's  self-restraint." 

The  Princess  nodded  sympathetically. 

"A  very  charming  young  man,  the  Baron«,"  she 
confided  to  the  General  who  had  taken  her  in  to  din- 
ner. "I  knew  his  father  and  his  uncle  quite  well, 
in  those  happy  daj's  before  the  war,  when  one  used  to 
move  from  coimtry  to  country." 

"Diplomatic  type  of  features,"  the  General  re- 
marked, who  hated  all  foreigners.  "It's  rather  bad 
luck  on  them,"  he  went  on,  with  bland  insularity, 
"that   the  men  of  the  European  neutrals — Dutch, 


24?6  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

Danish,  Norwegians  or  Swedes — all  resemble  Ger- 
mans so  much  more  than  Englishmen." 

The  Baron  turned  towards  Catherine  and  ventured 
upon  a  whispered  compliment.  She  was  wearing  a 
wonderful  pre-war  dress  of  black  velvet,  close-fitting 
yet  nowhere  cramping  her  naturally  delightful  figure. 
A  rope  of  pearls  hung  from  her  neck — her  only 
ornament. 

"It  is  permitted,  Countess,  to  express  one's  ap- 
preciation of  your  toilette?"  he  ventured. 

"In  England  it  is  not  usual,"  she  reminded  him, 
with  a  smile,  "but  as  you  are  such  an  old  friend  of 
the  family,  we  will  call  it  permissible.  It  is,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  the  last  gown  I  had  from  Paris.  Now- 
adays, one  thinks  of  other  things." 

**You  are  one  of  the  few  women,"  he  observed, 
"who  mix  in  the  great  affairs  and  yet  remain  in- 
tensely feminine." 

"Just  now,"  she  sighed,  "the  great  affairs  do  not 
please  me." 

*'Yet  the}'^  are  interesting,"  he  replied.  "The  at- 
mosphere at  the  present  moment  is  electric,  charged 
with  all  manner  of  strange  possibilities.  But  we 
talk  too  seriously.  Will  you  not  let  me  know  the 
names  of  some  of  your  guests?  With  General 
Crossle^'  I  am  already'  acquainted." 

"They  really  don't  count  for  very  much,"  she 
said,  a  little  carelessly.  "This  is  entirely  aunt's  Fri- 
day night  gathering,  and  they  are  all  her  friends. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  Ul 

That  is  Lady  Maltenby  opposite  you,  and  her  hus- 
band on  the  other  side  of  my  aunt." 

"Maltenby,"  he  repeated.  "Ah,  yes!  There  is 
one  son  a  Brigadier,  is  there  not?  And  another  one 
sees  sometimes  about  to^^^^ — a  Mr.  Julian  Orden." 

"He  is  the  youngest  son." 

"Am  I  exceeding  the  privileges  of  friendship, 
Countess,"  the  Baron  continued,  "if  I  enquire 
whether  there  was  not  a  rumour  of  an  engagement 
between  yourself  and  Mr.  Orden,  a  few  days 
ago?" 

"It  is  in  the  air,"  she  admitted,  "but  at  present 
nothing  is  settled.  Mr.  Orden  has  peculiar  habits. 
He  disappeared  from  Society  altogether,  a  few  days 
ago,  and  has  only  just  returned." 

"A  censor,  was  he  not?" 

"Something  of  the  sort,"  Catherine  assented. 
*'He  went  out  to  France,  though,  and  did  extremely 
well.     He  lost  his  foot  there." 

"I  have  noticed  that  he  uses  a  stick,"  the  Baron 
remarked.  "I  always  find  him  a  young  man  of  pleas- 
ant  and  distinguished  appearance." 

"Well,"  Catherine  continued,  "that  is  Mr.  Braith- 
waite,  the  playwright,  a  little  to  the  left — the  man 
with  the  smooth  grey  hair  and  eyeglass.  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton Beardsmore  you  know,  of  course;  her  husband 
is  commanding  his  regiment  in  Egypt." 

"The  lady  on  my  left?" 

"Lady  Grayson.     She  comes  up  from  the  country 


«48  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

once  a  month  to  buj  food.     You  needn't  mind  her. 
She  is  stone  deaf  and  prefers  dining  to  talking." 

"I  am  relieved,"  the  Baron  confessed,  with  a  little 
sigh.  "I  addressed  her  as  we  sat  down,  and  she 
made  no  reph'.  I  began  to  wonder  if  I  had  of- 
fended." 

"The  man  next  me,"  she  went  on,  "is  Mr.  Millson 
Gray.  He  is  an  American  millionaire,  over  here  to 
study  our  Y.M.C.A.  methods.  He  can  talk  of  no- 
thing else  in  the  world  but  Y.M.C.A.  huts  and 
American  investments,  and  he  is  very  hungry." 

"The  conditions,"  the  Baron  observed,  *'seem  fav- 
ourable for  a  tete-a-tete." 

Catherine  smiled  up  into  his  imperturbable  face. 
The  wine  had  brought  a  faint  colour  to  her  cheeks, 
and  the  young  man  sighed  regretfully  at  the  idea 
of  her  prospective  engagement.  He  had  always  been 
one  of  Catherine's  most  pronounced  admirers. 

"But  what  are  we  to  talk  about.'"'  she  asked.     "On 
the  really  interesting  subjects  3'our  lips  are  always  . 
closed.     You  are  a  man'el  of  discretion,  you  know, 
Baron — even  to  me." 

"That  is  perhaps  because  you  hide  your  real  per- 
sonality under  so  many  aliases." 

*'I  must  think  that  over,"  she  murmured. 

**You,"  he  continued,  "are  an  aristocrat  of  the 
aristocrats.  I  can  quite  conceive  that  you  found 
your  position  in  Russia  incompatible  with  modern 
ideas.     The  Russian  aristocracy,  if  you  will  forgive 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  ^49 

my  saying  so,  is  in  for  a  bad  time  which  it  has  done 
its  best  to  thoroughly  deserve.  But  in  England 
your  position  is  scarcely  so  comprehensible.  Here 
you  come  to  a  sanely  governed  country,  which  is,  to 
all  effects  and  purposes,  a  country  governed  by  the 
people  for  the  people.  Yet  here,  within  two  years, 
you  have  made  yourself  one  of  the  champions  of  de- 
mocracy. Why?  The  people  are  not  illtreated. 
On  the  contrary,  I  should  call  them  pampered." 

"You  do  not  understand,"  she  explained  earnestly. 
"In  Russia  it  was  the  aristocracy  who  oppressed  the 
people,  shamefully  and  malevolently.  In  England 
it  is  the  bourgeoisie  who  rule  the  country  and  stand 
in  the  light  of  Labour.  It  is  the  middleman,  the 
profiteer,  the  new  capitalist  here  who  has  become 
an  ugly  and  a  dominant  power.  Labour  has  the 
means  by  which  to  assert  itself  and  to  claim  its 
rights,  but  has  never  possessed  the  leaders  or  the 
training.  That  has  been  the  subject  of  my  lectures 
over  here  from  the  beginning.  I  want  to  teach  the 
people  how  to  crush  the  middleman.  I  want  to  show 
them  how  to  discover  and  to  utilise  their  strength." 

"Is  not  that  a  little  dangerous?"  he  enquired. 
"You  might  easily  produce  a  state  of  chaos." 

"For  a  time,  perhaps,"  she  admitted,  "but  never 
for  long.  You  see,  the  British  have  one  transcend- 
ental quality ;  they  possess  common  sense.  They 
are  not  idealists  like  the  Russians.  The  men  with 
irhom  I  mix  neither  walk  with  their  heads  turned  to 


250  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

the  clouds  nor  do  the}'  grope  about  amongst  the  mud. 
They  just  look  straight  ahead  of  them,  and  they  ask 
for  what  they  see  in  the  path." 

"I  see,"  he  murmured.  "And  now,  having  reached 
just  this  stage  in  our  conversation,  let  me  ask  you 
this.     You  read  the  newspapers.?" 

"Diligently,"  she  assured  him. 

"Are  you  aware  of  a  very  curious  note  of  unrest 
during  the  last  few  days — hints  at  a  crisis  in  the 
war  which  nothing  in  the  military  situation  seems 
to  justify — vague  but  rather  gloomy  suggestions  of 
an  early  peace?" 

*'Every  one  is  talking  about  it,"  she  agreed.  "I 
think  that  you  and  I  have  some  idea  as  to  what  it 
means." 

"Have  we?"  he  asked  quietly. 

"And  somehow,"  she  went  on,  dropping  her  voice  a 
little,  "I  believe  that  3'our  knowledge  goes  farther 
than  mine." 

Pie  gave  no  sign,  made  no  answer.  Some  question 
from  across  the  table,  with  reference  to  the  action 
of  one  of  his  country's  Ministers,  was  referred  to 
him.  He  replied  to  it  and  drifted  quite  naturally 
into  a  general  conversation.  Without  any  evident 
effort,  he  seemed  to  desire  to  bring  his  tete-a-tete  with 
Catherine  to  a  close.  She  showed  no  sign  of  disap- 
pointment ;  indeed  she  fell  into  his  humour  and  made 
vigorous  efforts  to  attack  the  subject  of  Y.M.C.A. 
huts  with  her  neighbour  on  the  right.     The  rest  of 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  261 

the  meal  passed  in  this  manner,  and  it  was  not  until 
they  met,  an  hour  later,  in  the  Princess'  famous  re- 
ception room,  that  they  exchanged  more  than  a  cas- 
ual word.  The  Princess  liked  to  entertain  her  guests 
in  a  fashion  of  her  own.  Tlie  long  apartment,  with 
its  many  recesses  and  deep  windows,  an  apartment 
which  took  up  the  whole  of  one  side  of  the  large 
house,  had  all  the  dignity  and  even  splendour  of  a 
drawing-room,  and  j-et,  with  its  little  palm  court, 
its  COS}'  divans,  its  bridge  tables  and  roulette  board, 
encouraged  an  air  of  freedom  which  made  it  emi- 
nently habitable. 

"I  wonder,  Baron,"  she  asked,  "what  time  you 
are  leaving,  and  whether  I  could  rely  upon  your 
escort  to  the  Lawsons'  dance  ?  Don't  hesitate  to  say 
if  you  have  an  engagement,  as  it  only  means  my 
telephoning  to  some  friends." 

"I  am  entirely  at  your  service.  Countess,"  he 
answered  promptly.  "As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have 
already  promised  to  appear  there  myself  for  an 
hour." 

"You  would  like  to  play  bridge  now,  perhaps.?'* 
she  asked. 

"The  Princess  was  kind  enough  to  invite  me,"  he 
replied,  "but  I  ventured  to  excuse  myself.  I  saw 
that  the  numbers  were  even  without  me,  and  I  hoped 
for  a  little  more  conversation  with  you.'* 

The}'  seated  themselves  in  an  exceedingly  comfort- 
able comer.     A  footman  brought  them  coffee,  and 


25^  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

a  butler  offered  strange  liqueurs.  Catherine  leaned 
back  with  a  little  sigh  of  relief. 

"Every  one  calls  this  room  of  my  aunt's  the 
hotel  lounge,"  she  remarked.  "Personally,  I  love 
it." 

**To  me,  also,  it  is  the  ideal  apartment,"  he  con- 
fessed. "Here  we  are  alone,  and  I  may  ask  you  a 
question  which  was  on  my  lips  when  we  had  tea  to- 
gether at  the  Carlton,  and  which,  but  for  our  en- 
vironment, I  should  certainly  have  asked  you  at 
dinner  time." 

"You  may  ask  me  anything,"  she  assured  him,  with 
a  little  smile.  "I  am  feeling  happy  and  loquacious. 
Don't  tempt  me  to  talk,  or  I  shall  give  away  all  my 
life's  secrets." 

"I  will  only  ask  you  for  one  just  now,"  he  prom- 
ised. "Is  it  true  that  you  have  to-day  had  some  dis- 
agreement with — shall  I  say  a  small  congress  of  men 
who  have  their  meetings  down  at  Westminster,  and 
with  whom  you  have  been  in  close  touch  for  some 
time?" 

Her  start  was  unmistakable. 

**How  on  earth  do  you  know  anything  about 
that.?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"These  are  the  days,"  he  said,  "when,  if  one  is  to 
succeed  in  my  profession,  one  must  know  every- 
thing." 

She  did  not  speak  for  a  moment.     His  question 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  »6$ 

had  been  rather  a  shock  to  her.  In  a  moment  or 
two,  however,  she  found  herself  wondering  how  to 
use  it  for  her  own  advantage. 

"It  is  true,"  she  admitted. 

He  looked  intently  at  the  point  of  his  patent  shoe. 

"Is  this  not  a  case,  Countess,"  he  ventured,  "in 
which  you  and  I  might  perhaps  come  a  little  closer 
together.'"' 

"If  you  have  anything  to  suggest,  I  am  ready  to 
listen,"  she  said. 

"I  wonder,"  he  went  on,  "if  I  am  right  in  some  of 
my  ideas  .^  I  shall  test  them.  You  have  taken  up 
your  abode  in  England.  That  was  natural,  for  do- 
mestic reasons.  You  have  shown  a  great  interest  in 
a  certain  section  of  the  British  public.  It  is  my 
theory  that  your  interest  in  England  is  for  that 
section  only ;  that  as  a  country,  you  are  no  more  an 
admirer  of  her  characteristics  than  I  am." 

"Yooi  are  perfectly  right,"  she  answered  coolly. 

"Your  interest,"  he  proceeded,  "is  in  the  men  and 
women  toilers  of  the  world,  the  people  who  carry  on 
their  shoulders  the  whole  burdeni  of  life,  and  whose 
position  you  are  continually  desiring  to  ameliorate. 
I  take  it  that  your  sympathy  is  international.?" 

"It  is,"  she  assented. 

"People  of  this  order  in — say — Germany,  excite 
your  sympathy  in  the  same  degree?" 

"Absolutely !" 

"Therefore,"  he  propounded,   "you  are  working 


254.  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

for    the   betterment    of   the   least    considered   class, 
whether  it  be  German,  Austrian,  British,  or  French?" 

"That  also  is  true,"  she  agreed. 

"I  pursue  my  theory,  then.  The  issue  of  this  war 
leaves  you  indifferent,  so  long  as  the  people  come  to 
their  own?" 

"My  work  for  the  last  few  weeks  amongst  those 
men  of  whom  you  have  been  speaking,"  she  pointed 
out,  "should  prove  that." 

"We  are  through  the  wood  and  in  the  open,  then," 
he  declared,  with  a  little  sigh  of  relief.  "Now  I  am 
prepared  to  trade  secrets  with  you.  I  am  not  a 
friend  of  this  country.  Neither  my  Chief  nor  my 
Government  have  the  slightest  desire  to  see  England 
win  the  war." 

"That  I  knew,"  she  acknowledged. 

"Now  I  ask  you  for  information,"  he  continued. 
"Tell  me  this?  Your  pseudo-friends  have  presented 
the  supposed  German  terms  of  peace  to  Mr.  Stenson. 
What  was  the  result?" 

"He  is  taking  twenty-four  hours  to  consider 
them." 

"And  what  will  happen  if  he  refuses?"  the  Baron 
asked,  leaning  a  little  towards  her.  "Will  they  use 
their  mighty  weapon  ?  Will  they  really  go  the  whole 
way,  or  will  they  compromise?" 

"They  will  not  compromise,"  she  assured  him. 
"The  telegrams  to  the  secretaries  of  the  various 
Trades  Unions  are  already  written  out.     They  will 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  255 

be  despatched  five  minutes  after  Mr.  Stenson's  re- 
fusal to  sue  for  an  armistice  has  been  announced." 

"You  know  that?"  he  persisted. 

"I  know  it  beyond  any  shadow  of  doubt." 

He  nodded  slowly. 

"Your  information,"  he  admitted,  "is  valuable  to 
me.  Well  though  I  am  served,  I  cannot  penetrate 
into  the  inner  circles  of  the  Council  itself.  Your 
news  is  good." 

"And  now,"  she  said,  "I  expect  the  most  amazing 
revelations  from  you." 

"You  shall  have  them,  with  pleasure/'  he  replied. 
"Freistner  has  been  in  a  German  fortress  for  some 
weeks  and  may  be  shot  at  any  moment.  The  sup- 
posed strength  of  the  Socialist  Party  in  Germany 
is  an  utter  sham.  The  signatures  attached  to  the 
document  which  was  handed  to  your  Council  some 
days  ago  will  be  repudiated.  The  whole  scheme  of 
coming  into  touch  with  your  Labour  classes  has  been 
fostered  and  developed  by  the  German  War  Cabinet. 
England  will  be  placed  in  the  most  humiliating  and 
ridiculous  position.  It  will  mean  the  end  of  the 
war." 

"And  Germany?"  she  gasped. 
"Germany,"  the  Baron  pronounced  calmly,  "wiU 
have  taken  the  first  great  step  up  the  ladder  in  her 
climb  towards  the  dominance  of  the  world." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

There  were  one  or  two  amongst  those  present  in 
the  Council  room  at  Westminster  that  evening,  who 
noted  and  never  forgot  a  certain  indefinable  dignity 
which  seemed  to  come  to  Stenson's  aid  and  enabled 
him  to  face  what  must  have  been  an  unwelcome  and 
anxious  ordeal  without  discomposure  or  disquiet. 
He  entered  the  room  accompanied  by  Julian  and 
Phineas  Cross,  and  he  had  very  much  the  air  of  a 
man  who  has  come  to  pay  a  business  visit,  concern- 
ing the  final  issue  of  which  there  could  be  no  possible 
doubt.  He  shook  hands  with  the  Bishop  gravely  but 
courteously,  nodded  to  the  others  with  whom  he  was 
acquainted,  asked  the  names  of  the  few  strangers 
present,  and  made  a  careful  mental  note  of  what 
industries  and  districts  they  represented.  He  then 
accepted  a  chair  by  the  side  of  the  Bishop,  who  im- 
mediately opened  the  proceedings. 

"My  friends,"  the  latter  began,  "as  I  sent  word 
to  you  a  little  time  ago,  Mr.  Stenson  has  preferred 
to  bring  you  his  answer  himself.  Our  ambassador — 
Mr.  Julian  Orden — waited  upon  him  at  Downing 
Street  at  the  hour  arranged  upon,  and,  in  accord- 
ance with  his  wish  to  meet  you  all,  Mr.  Stenson  is 
paying  us  this  visit." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  «67 

The  Bishop  hesitated,  and  the  Prime  Minister 
promptly  drew  his  chair  a  little  farther  into  the 
circle. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "the  issue  which  you  have 
raised  is  so  tremendous,  and  its  results  may  well  be 
so  catastrophic,  that  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  beg 
Mr.  Orden  to  arrange  for  me  to  come  and  speak  to 
you  all,  to  explain  to  you  face  to  face  why,  on  behalf 
of  His  Majesty's  Government,  I  cannot  do  your 
bidding." 

"You  don't  want  peace,  then?"  one  of  the  delegates 
from  the  other  side  of  the  table  asked  bluntly. 

"We  do  not,"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "We  are  not 
ready  for  it." 

"The  country  is,"  Fenn  declared  firmly.  "We 
are." 

"So  your  ambassador  has  told  me,"  was  the  calm 
reply.  "In  point  of  numbers  you  may  be  said,  per- 
haps, to  represent  the  nation.  In  point  of  intellect, 
of  knowledge — of  inner  knowledge,  mind — I  claim 
that  I  represent  it.  I  tell  you  that  a  peace  now, 
even  on  the  terms  which  your  Socialist  allies  in  Ger- 
many have  suggested,  would  be  for  us  a  peace  of  dis- 
honour." 

"Will  you  tell  us  why?"  the  Bishop  begged. 

"Because  it  is  not  the  peace  we  promised  our 
dead  or  our  living  heroes,"  Mr.  Stenson  said  slowly. 
"We  set  out  to  fight  for  democracy — your  cause. 
That  fight  would  be  a  failure  if  we  allowed  the  proud- 


258  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

est,  the  most  autocratic,  the  most  conscienceless 
despot  M'ho  ever  sat  upon  a  throne  to  remain  in  his 
place." 

"But  that  is  just  what  we  shall  not  do,"  Fenn  in- 
terrupted. "Freistner  has  assured  us  of  that.  The 
peace  is  not  the  Kaiser's  peace.  It  is  the  peace  of 
the  Socialist  Party  in  Germany,  and  the  day  the 
terms  are  proclaimed,  democracy  there  will  score  its 
first  triumph." 

"I  find  neither  in  the  European  Press  nor  in  the 
reports  of  our  secret  service  agents  the  slightest 
warrant  for  any  such  supposition,"  Mr.  Stenson  pro- 
nounced with  emphasis. 

"You  have  read  Freistner's  letter?"  Fenn  asked. 

"Every  word  of  it,"  the  Prime  Minister  replied. 
*'I  believe  that  Freistner  is  an  honest  man,  as  honest 
as  any  of  you,  but  I  think  that  he  is  mistaken.  I 
do  not  believe  that  the  German  people  are  with  him. 
I  am  content  to  believe  that  those  signatures  are 
genuine.  I  will  even  believe  that  Germany  would 
welcome  those  terms  of  peace,  although  she  would 
never  allow  them  to  proceed  from  her  own  Cabinet. 
But  I  do  not  believe  that  the  clash  and  turmoil  which 
would  follow  their  publication  would  lead  to  the 
overthrow  of  the  German  dynasty.  You  give  me  no 
proof  of  it,  gentlemen.  You  have  none  yourselves. 
And  therefore  I  say  that  you  propose  to  work  in 
the  dark,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  your  work  may 
lead  to  an  evil  end.     I  want  you  to  listen  to  me  for 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  «69 

one  moment,"  he  went  on,  his  face  lighting  up  with 
a  flash  of  terrible  earnestness.  *'I  am  not  going  to 
cast  about  in  my  mind  for  flowery  phrases  or  epi- 
grams. We  are  plain  men  here  together,  with  our 
country's  fate  in  the  balance.  For  God's  sake, 
realise  your  responsibilities.  I  want  peace.  I  ache 
for  it.  But  there  will  be  no  peace  for  Europe  while 
Germany  remains  an  undefeated  autocracy.  We've 
promised  our  dead  and  our  living  to  oust  that  cor- 
rupt monster  from  his  throne.  We've  promised  it 
to  France — our  glorious  Allies.  We've  shaken 
hands  about  it  with  America,  whose  ships  are  already 
crowding  the  seas,  and  whose  young  manhood  has 
taken  the  oath  which  ours  has  taken.  This  isn't 
the  time  for  peace.  I  am  not  speaking  in  the  dark 
when  I  tell  you  that  we  have  a  great  movement 
pending  in  the  West  Avhich  may  completely  alter  the 
whole  military  situation.  Give  us  a  chance.  If  you 
carry  out  your  threat,  you  plunge  this  country  into 
revolution,  you  dishonour  us  in  the  face  of  our 
Allies;  you  will  go  through  the  rest  of  your  lives, 
every  one  of  you,  with  a  guilt  upon  your  souls,  a 
stain  upon  your  consciences,  which  nothing  will  ever 
obliterate.  You  see,  I  have  kept  my  word — I  haven't 
said  much.  I  cannot  ask  for  the  armistice  you  sug- 
gest. If  you  take  this  step  you  threaten — I  do  not 
deny  its  significance — you  will  probabl}'^  stop  the 
war.  One  of  you  will  come  in  and  take  my  place. 
There  will  be  turmoil,  confusion,  verj'^  likely  blood- 


260  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

shed.  I  know  what  the  issue  will  be,  and  jet  I 
know  my  dutj.  There  is  not  one  member  of  my 
Cabinet  who  is  not  with  me.  We  refuse  your  ap- 
peal." 

Every  one  at  the  table  seemed  to  be  talking  at  the 
same  time  to  every  one  else.  Then  Cross's  voice  rose 
above  the  others.  He  rose  to  his  feet  to  ensure 
attention. 

"Bishop,"  he  said,  "there  is  one  point  in  what 
Mr.  Stenson  has  been  saying  which  I  think  we  might 
and  ought  to  consider  a  little  more  fully,  and  that 
is,  what  guarantees  have  we  that  Freistner  really 
has  the  people  at  the  back  of  him,  that  he'll  be  able 
to  cleanse  that  rat  pit  at  Berlin  of  the  Hohenzollem 
and  his  clan  of  junkers — the  most  accursed  type  of 
politician  who  ever  breathed?  We  ought  to  be  very 
sure  about  this.  Fenn's  our  man.  What  about  it, 
Fcnn.P" 

"Freistner's  letters  for  weeks,"  Fenn  answered, 
"have  spoken  of  the  wonderful  wave  of  socialistic  feel- 
ing throughout  the  country.  He  is  an  honest  man, 
and  he  docs  not  exaggerate.  He  assures  us  that 
half  the  nation  is  pledged." 

"One  man,"  David  Sands  remarked  thoughtfully. 
"If  there  is  a  weak  point  about  this  business,  which 
I  am  not  prepared  wholly  to  admit,  it  is  that  the 
entire  job  on  that  side  seems  to  be  run  by  one  man. 
There's  a  score  of  us.  I  should  like  to  hear  of  more 
on  the  other  side." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  «61 

**It  is  strange,"  Mr.  Stenson  pointed  out,  "that  so 
little  news  of  this  gain  of  strength  on  the  part  of 
the  Socialists  has  been  allowed  to  escape  from  Ger- 
many. However  rigid  their  censorship,  copies  of 
German  newspapers  reach  us  every  day  from  neutral 
countries.  I  cannot  believe  that  Socialism  has  made 
the  advance  Freistner  claims  for  it,  and  I  agree 
with  our  friends,  Mr.  Cross  and  Mr.  Sands  here,  that 
you  ought  to  be  very  sure  that  Freistner  is  not  de- 
ceived before  you  take  this  extreme  measure." 

"We  are  content  to  trust  to  our  brothers  in  Ger- 
many," Fenn  declared. 

"I  am  not  convinced  that  we  should  be  wise  to  do 
so,"  Julian  intervened.  "I  am  in  favour  of  our  tak- 
ing a  few  more  days  to  consider  this  matter." 

"And  I  am  against  any  delay,"  Fenn  objected 
hotly.     "I  am  for  immediate  action." 

"Let  me  explain  where  I  think  we  have  been  a 
little  hasty,"  Julian  continued  earnestly.  "I  gather 
that  the  whole  correspondence  between  this  body  and 
the  Socialist  Party  in  Germany  has  been  carried  on 
by  Mr.  Fenn  and  Freistner.  There  are  other  well- 
known  Socialists  in  Germany,  but  from  not  one  of 
these  have  we  received  any  direct  communication. 
Furthermore — and  I  say  this  without  wishing  to  im- 
pugn in  any  way  the  care  with  which  I  am  sure  our 
secretary  has  transcribed  these  letters — at  a  time 
like  this  I  am  forced  to  remember  that  I  have  seen 
nothing  but  copies." 


262  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

Fenn  was  on  his  feet  in  a  moment,  white  with  pas- 
sion. 

"Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  I  have  altered  or 
forged  the  letters?"  he  shouted. 

"I  have  made  no  insinuations,"  Julian  replied. 
"At  the  same  time,  before  we  proceed  to  extremities, 
I  propose  that  we  spend  half  an  hour  studying  the 
originals." 

"That's  common  sense,"  Cross  declared. 
"There's  no  one  can  object  to  that.  I'm  none  so 
much  in  favour  of  these  tj'pewritten  slips  myself." 

Fenn  turned  to  whisper  to  Bright,  Mr.  Stenson 
rose  to  his  feet.  The  glare  of  the  unshaded  lamp 
fell  upon  his  strained  face.  He  seemed  to  have 
grown  older  and  thinner  since  his  entrance  into  the 
room. 

"I  can  neither  better  nor  weaken  my  cause  by  re- 
maining," he  said.  "Only  let  this  be  my  parting 
word  to  you.  Upon  my  soul  as  an  Englishman,  I 
believe  that  if  you  send  out  those  telegrams  to-night, 
if  you  use  your  hideous  and  deadly  weapon  against 
me  and  the  Government,  I  believe  that  you  will  be 
guilty  of  this  country's  ruin,  as  you  certainly  will 
of  her  dishonour.  You  have  the  example  of  Russia 
before  you.  And  I  will  tell  you  this,  too,  which 
take  into  your  hearts.  There  isn't  one  of  those  men 
who  are  marching,  perhaps  to-night,  perhaps  to- 
morrow, to  a  possible  death,  wlio  would  thank  you 
for  trying  to  save  their  lives  or  bodies  at  the  ex- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  263 

pense  of  England's  honour.  Those  about  to  die 
would  be  your  sternest  critics.     I  can  say  no  more." 

Julian  walked  with  the  Premier  towards  the  door. 

"Mr.  Stenson,"  he  declared,  "you  have  said  just 
what  could  be  said  from  your  point  of  view,  and 
God  knows,  even  now,  who  is  in  the  right !  You  are 
looking  at  the  future  with  a  very  full  knowledge  of 
many  things  of  which  we  are  all  ignorant.  You 
have,  quite  naturally,  too,  the  politician's  hatred  of 
the  methods  these  people  propose.  I  myself  am  in- 
clined to  think  that  they  are  a  little  hasty." 

"Orden,"  Mr.  Stenson  replied  sternly,  "I  did  not 
come  to  you  to-night  as  a  politician.  I  have  spoken 
as  a  man  and  an  Englishman,  as  I  speak  to  you 
now.  For  the  love  of  your  country  and  her  honour, 
use  your  influence  with  these  people.  Stop  those 
telegrams.  Work  for  delay  at  any  cost.  There's 
something  inexplicable,  sinister,  about  the  whole 
business.  Freistner  may  be  an  honest  man,  but  Pll 
swear  that  he  hasn't  the  influence  or  the  position  that 
these  people  have  been  led  to  believe.  And  as  for 
Nicholas  Fenn — " 

The  Prime  Minister  paused.  Julian  waited 
anxiously. 

"It  is  my  belief/'  the  former  concluded  deliber- 
ately, "that  thirty  seconds  in  the  courtyard  of  the 
Tower,  with  his  back  to  the  light,  would  about  meet 
his  case." 

They  parted  at  the  door,  and  Julian  returned  to 


264  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

his  seat,  uneasy  and  perplexed.  Around  the  Council 
table  voices  were  raised  in  anger.  Fenn,  who  was 
sitting  moodily  with  folded  arms,  his  chair  drawn 
a  little  back  from  the  table,  scowled  at  him  as  he 
took  his  place.  Furley,  who  had  been  whispering 
to  the  Bishop,  turned  towards  Julian. 

"It  seems,"  he  announced,  "that  the  originals  of 
most  of  Freistner's  communications  have  been  de- 
stroyed." 

"And  why  not?"  Fenn  demanded  passionately. 
"Why  should  I  keep  letters  which  would  lay  a  rope 
around  my  neck  any  day  they  were  found.''  You  all 
know  as  well  as  I  do  that  we've  been  expecting  the 
police  to  raid  the  place  ever  since  we  took  it." 

"I  am  a  late  comer,"  Julian  observed,  "but  surely 
some  of  you  others  have- seen  the  original  communica- 
tions ?" 

Thomas  Evans  spoke  up  from  the  other  end  of  the 
table, — a  small,  sturdily  built  man,  a  great  power  in 
South  Wales. ' 

"To  be  frank,"  he  said,  "I  don't  like  these  insinua- 
tions. Fenn's  been  our  secretary  from  the  first.  He 
opened  the  negotiations,  and  he's  carried  them 
through.  We  either  trust  him,  or  we  don't.  I  trust 
him." 

"And  I'm  not  saying  you're  not  right,  lad."  Cross 
declared.  *'I'm  for  being  cautious,  but  it's  more 
with  the  idea  that  our  German  friends  themselves  may 
be  a  little  too  sanguine." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  265 

*'I  will  pledge  my  word,"  Fcnn  pronounced 
fiercely,  "to  the  truth  of  all  the  facts  I  have  laid 
before  you.  Whatever  my  work  may  have  been, 
to-day  it  is  completed.  I  have  brought  you  a  peo- 
ple's peace  from  Gerraan3\  This  very  Council  was 
formed  for  the  purpose  of  imposing  that  peace  upon 
the  Government.  Are  you  going  to  back  out  now,  be- 
cause a  dilettante  writer,  an  aristocrat  who  never 
did  a  stroke  of  work  in  his  life,  casts  sneering  doubts 
upon  my  honesty.''  I've  done  the  work  you  gave  me 
to  do.  It's  up  to  you  to  finish  it.  I  represent  a 
million  working  men.  So  does  David  Sands  there, 
Evafns  and  Cross,  and  you  others.  What  does 
Orden  represent?  Nobody  and  nothing!  Miles 
Furley.''  A  little  band  of  Socialists  who  live  in  their 
gardens  and  keep  bees!  My  lord  Bishop?  Just  his 
congregation  from  week  to  week !  Yet  it's  these  out- 
siders who've  come  in  and  disturbed  us.  I've  had 
enough  of  it  and  them.  We've  wasted  the  night,  but 
I  propose  that  the  telegrams  go  out  at  eight  o'clock 
to-morrow  morning.     Hands  up  for  it !" 

It  was  a  counter-attajck  which  swept  everything 
before  it.  Every  hand  in  the  room  except  the 
Bishop's,  Furley's,  Cross's  and  Julian's  was  raised. 
Fenn  led  the  way  towards  the  door. 

*'We've  our  work  to  do,  chaps,"  he  said.  "We'll 
leave  the  others  to  talk  till  daylight,  if  they  want 
to." 


CHAPTER  XX 

Julian  and  Furley  left  the  place  together.  They 
looked  for  the  Bishop  but  found  that  he  had  slipped 
away. 

"To  Downing  Street,  I  believe,"  Furley  remarked. 
"He  has  some  vague  idea  of  suggesting  a  compro- 
mise." 

"Compromise !"  Julian  repeated  a  little  drearily. 
*'How  can  there  be  any  such  thing!  There  might 
be  delay.  I  think  we  ought  to  have  given  Stenson 
a  week — time  to  communicate  with  America  and 
send  a  mission  to  France." 

"We  are  like  all  theorists,"  Furley  declared  mood- 
ily, stopping  to  relight  his  pipe.  *'Wc  create  and 
destroy  on  paper  with  amazing  facility.  When  it 
comes  to  practice,  we  are  funks." 

"Are  you  funking  this.''"  Julian  asked  bluntly. 

"How  can  any  one  help  it.'*  Theoretically  we  are 
right — I  am  sure  of  it.  If  we  leave  it  to  the  poli- 
ticians, this  war  will  go  dragging  on  for  God  knows 
how  long.  It's  the  people  who  are  paying.  It's 
the  people  who  ought  to  make  the  peace.  The  only 
thing  that  bothers  me  is  whether  we  are  doing  it  the 
right  way.  Is  Freistner  honest?  Could  he  be  self- 
deceived.''  Is  there  any  chance  that  he  could  be 
playing  into  the  hands  of  the  Pan-Germans.'"' 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  267 

"Fenn  is  the  man  who  has  had  most  to  do  with 
him,"  Julian  remarked.  "I  wouldn't  trust  Fenn  a 
yard,  but  I  believe  in  Freistner." 

"So  do  I,"  Furley  assented,  "but  is  Fenn's  report 
of  his  promises  and  the  strength  of  his  followers  en- 
tirely honest?" 

"That's  the  part  of  the  whole  thing  I  don't  like," 
Julian  acknowledged.  "Fenn's  practically  the 
corner  stone  of  this  affair.  It  was  he  who  met 
Freistner  in  Amsterdam  and  started  these  negoti- 
ations, and  I'm  damned  if  I  like  Fenn,  or  trust  him. 
Did  you  see  the  way  he  looked  at  Stenson  out  of 
the  corners  of  his  eyes,  like  a  little  ferret?  Stenson 
was  at  his  best,  too.  I  never  admired  the  man 
more." 

"He  certainly  kept  his  head,"  Furley  agreed. 
*'His  few  straight  words  were  to  the  point,  too." 

"It  wasn't  the  occasion  for  eloquence,"  Julian  de- 
clared. "That'll  come  next  week.  I  suppose  he'll 
try  and  break  the  Trades  Unions.  AVhat  a  chance 
for  an  Edmund  Burke !  It's  all  right,  I  suppose,  but 
I  wonder  why  I'm  feeling  so  damned  miserable." 

"The  fact  is,"  Furley  confided,  "you  and  I  and 
the  Bishop  and  Miss  Abbcway  are  all  to  a  certain 
extent  out  of  place  on  that  Council.  We  ought  to 
have  contented  ourselves  with  having  supplied  the 
ideas.  When  it  comes  to  the  practical  side,  our 
other  instincts  revolt.  After  all,  if  we  believed  that 
by  continuing  the  war  we  could  beat  Germany  from  a 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

military  point  of  view,  I  suppose  we  should  forget 
a  lot  of  this  admirable  reasoning  of  ours  and  let  it 
go  on." 

"It  doesn't  sejem  a  fair  bargain,  though,"  Julian 
sighed.  "It's  the  lives  of  our  men  to-day  for  the 
freedom  of  their  descendants,  if  that  isn't  frittered 
away  by  another  race  of  politicians.  It  isn't  good 
enough,  Miles." 

"Then  let's  be  thankful  it's  going  to  stop,"  Furley 
declared.  "We've  pinned  our  colours  to  the  mast, 
Julian.  I  don't  like  Fenn  any  more  than  you  do, 
nor  do  I  trust  him,  but  I  can't  see,  in  tliis  instance, 
that  he  has  anything  to  gain  by  not  running  straight. 
Besides,  he  can't  have  faked  the  terms,  and  that's 
the  only  document  that  counts.  And  so  good  night 
and  to  bed,"  he  added,  pausing  at  the  street  corner, 
where  they  parted. 

There  was  something  curiously  different  about  the 
demeanour  of  Julian's  trusted  servant,  as  he  took  his 
master's  coat  and  hat.  Even  Julian,  engrossed  as  he 
was  in  the  happenings  of  the  evening,  could  scarcely 
fail  to  notice  it. 

"You  seem  out  of  sorts  to-night,  Robert!"  he  re- 
marked. 

The  latter,  whose  manners  were  usually  suave  and 
excellent,  answered  almost  harshly. 

"I  have  enough  to  make  me  so,  sir — more  than 
-enough.     I  wish  to  give  a  week's  notice." 

"Been  drinking,  Robert.'"'  his  master  enquired. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  «69 

The  man  smiled  mirthlessly. 

"I  am  quite  sober,  sir,"  he  answered,  "but  I  should 
be  glad  to  go  at  once.  It  would  be  better  for  both 
of  us." 

"What  have  jou  against  me?"  Julian  asked,  puz- 
zled. 

"The  lives  of  ray  two  boys,"  was  the  fierce  reply. 
"Fred's  gone  now — died  in  hospital  last  night.  It 
was  you  who  talked  them  into  soldiering." 

Julian's  manner  changed  at  once,  and  his  tone 
became  kinder. 

"You  are  very  foolish  to  blame  anybod}^,  Robert. 
Your  sons  did  their  duty.  If  they  hadn't  joined  up 
when  the3'  did,  they  would  have  had  to  join  as  con- 
scripts later  on." 

"Their  duty !"  Robert  repeated,  with  smothered 
scorn.  "Their  duty  to  a  squirming  nest  of  cowardly 
politicians — begging  your  pardon,  sir.  Why,  the 
whole  Government  isn't  worth  the  blood  of  one  of 
them !" 

"I  am  sorry  about  Fred,"  Julian  said  sympa- 
thetically. "All  the  same,  Robert,  you  must  try  and 
pull  yourself  together." 

The  man  groaned. 

"Pull  myself  together!"  he  said  angrily.  "Mr. 
Orden,  sir,  I'm  trying  to  keep  respectful,  but  it's  a 
hard  thing.  I've  been  reading  the  evening  papers. 
There's  an  article,  signed  'Paul  Fiske',  in  the  Pall 
Mall.     They  tell  me  that  you're  Paul  Fiske.     You're 


270  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

for   peace,   it   seems — for  peace  with   the   Grerman 
Emperor  and  his  bloody  crew." 

"I  am  in  favour  of  peace  on  certain  terms,  at  the 
earliest  possible  moment,"  Julian  admitted. 

"That's  where  you've  sold  us,  then — sold  us  all !" 
Robert  declared  fiercely.  "My  boys  died  believing 
they  were  fighting  for  men  who  would  keep  their 
word.  The  war  was  to  go  on  till  victory  was  won. 
They  died  happily,  believing  that  those  who  had 
spoken  for  England  would  keep  their  word.  You're 
very  soft-hearted  in  that  article,  sir,  about  the  living. 
Did  you  think,  when  j'ou  sat  down  to  write  it,  about 
the  dead? — about  that  wilderness  of  white  crosses  out 
in  France.''  You're  proposing  in  cold  blood  to  let 
those  devils  stay  on  their  own  dunghill." 

"It  is  a  very  large  question,  Robert,"  Julian  re- 
minded him.  *'The  war  is  fast  reaching  a  period 
of  mutual  exhaustion." 

The  man  threw  all  restraint  to  the  winds. 

"Claptrap!"  was  his  angry  reply.  "You  wealthy 
people  want  your  fleshpots  again.  We've  a  few  more 
million  men,  haven't  we?  America  has  a  few  more 
millions?" 

"Your  own  loss,  Robert,  has  made  you — and  quite 
naturally,  too — very  bitter,"  his  master  said  gently. 
"You  must  let  those  who  have  thought  this  matter 
out  come  to  a  decision  upon  it.  Beyond  a  certain 
point,  the  manhood  of  the  world  must  be  conserved." 

"That  sounds  just  like  fine  talk  to  me,  sir,  and 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  «71 

no  more;  the  sort  of  stuff  that's  printed  in  articles 
and  that  no  one  takes  much  stock  of.  Words  were 
plain  enough  when  we  started  out  to  fight  this  war. 
We  were  going  to  crush  the  German  military  spirit 
and  not  leave  off  fighting  until  we'd  done  it.  There 
was  nothing  said  then  about  conserving  millions  of 
men.  It  was  to  be  fought  out  to  the  end,  whatever 
it  cost." 

"And  you  were  once  a  pacifist !" 

^'Pacifist !"  the  man  repeated  passionately. 
"Every  human  being  with  common  sense  was  a  pacifist 
when  the  war  started." 

"But  the  war  was  forced  upon  us,"  Julian  re- 
minded him.     "You  can't  deny  that." 

"No  one  wishes  to,  sir.  It  was  forced  upon  us 
all  right,  but  who  made  it  necessary.?  Why,  our 
rotten  government  for  the  last  twenty  years !  Our 
politicians,  Mr.  Julian,  that  are  prating  now  of 
peace  before  their  job's  done!  Do  you  think  that 
if  we'd  paid  our  insurance  like  men  and  been  pre- 
pared, this  war  would  ever  have  come.''  Not  it !  We 
asked  for  trouble,  and  we  got  it  in  the  neck.  If 
we  make  peace  now,  we'll  be  a  German  colony  in 
twenty  years,  thanks  to  Mr,  Stenson  and  you  and 
the  rest  of  them.  A  man  can  be  a  pacifist  all  right 
until  his  head  has  been  punched.  Afterwards,  there's 
another  name  for  him.  Is  there  anything  more  I 
can  get  you  to-night  before  I  leave,  sir.?" 

"Nothing,  thanks.     I'm  sorry  about  Fred." 


S72  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

Julian,  conscious  of  an  intense  weariness,  un- 
dressed and  went  to  bed  very  soon  after  the  man's 
departure.  He  was  already  in  his  first  doife  when 
he  awoke  suddenly  with  a  start.  He  sat  up  and 
listened.  The  sound  which  had  disturbed  him  was 
repeated, — a  quiet  but  insistent  ringing  of  the  front- 
door bell.  He  glanced  at  his  watch.  It  was  barely 
midnight,  but  unusually  late  for  a  visitor.  Once 
more  the  bell  rang,  and  this  time  he  remembered 
that  Robert  slept  out,  and  that  he  was  alone  in  the 
flat.  He  thrust  his  feet  into  slippers,  wrapped  his 
dressing  gown  around  him,  and  made  his  way  to  the 
front  door. 

Julian's  only  idea  had  been  that  this  might  be  some 
messenger  from  the  Council.  To  his  amazement  he 
found  himself  confronted  by  Catherine. 

"Close  the  door,"  she  begged.  "Come  into  your 
sitting  room." 

She  pushed  past  him  and  he  obeyed,  still  dumb 
with  surprise  and  the  shock  of  his  sudden  awakening. 
Catherine  herself  seemed  unaware  of  his  unusual  cos- 
tume, reckless  of  the  hour  and  the  strangeness  of 
her  visit.  She  wore  a  long  chinchilla  coat,  covering 
her  from  head  to  foot,  and  a  mantilla  veil  about 
her  head,  which  partially  obscured  her  features.  As 
soon  as  she  raised  it,  he  knew  that  great  things  had 
happened.  Her  cheeks  were  the  colour  of  ivory,  and 
her  eyes  unnaturally  distended.  Her  tone  was 
steady  but  full  of  repressed  passion. 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  273 

"Julian,"  she  cried,  "we  have  been  deceived — 
tricked !  I  have  come  to  you  for  help.  Are  the 
telegrams  sent  out  yet?" 

"They  go  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,"  he  re- 
plied. 

"Thank  God  we  are  in  time  to  stop  them !" 

Julian  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  utterly  in- 
credulous. 

"Stop  them?"  he  repeated.  "But  how  can  we? 
Stenson  has  declared  war." 

"Thank  heaven  for  that !"  she  exclaimed,  her  voice 
trembling.  "Julian,  the  whole  thing  is  an  accursed 
plot.  The  German  Socialists  have  never  increased 
their  strength  except  in  their  own  imaginations. 
They  are  absolutely  powerless.  This  is  the  most 
cunning  scheme  of  the  whole  war.  Freistner  has 
simply  been  the  tool  of  the  militarists.  They  en- 
couraged him  to  put  forward  these  proposals  and  to 
communicate  with  Nicholas  Fenn.  When  the  arm- 
istice has  been  declared  and  negotiations  begun,  the 
three  signatures  will  be  repudiated.  The  peace  they 
mean  to  impose  is  one  of  their  own  dictation,  and  in 
the  meantime  we  shall  have  created  a  cataclysm 
here.  The  war  will  never  start  again.  All  the  Allies 
will  be  at  a  discord." 

"How  have  you  found  this  out?"  Julian  gasped. 

"From  one  of  Germany's  chief  friends  in  England. 
He  is  high  up  in  the  diplomatic  service  of — of  a 
neutral  country,  but  he  has  been  working  for  Ger* 


274.  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

many  ever  since  the  commencement  of  the  war.  He 
has  been  helping  in  this.  He  has  seen  me  often  with 
Nicholas  Fenn,  and  he  believes  that  I  am  behind  the 
scenes,  too.  He  believes  that  I  know  the  truth,  and 
that  I  am  working  for  Germany.  He  is  absolutely 
to  be  relied  upon.  Every  word  that  I  am  telling  you 
is  the  truth." 

"What  about  Fenn.'"'  Julian  demanded  breath- 
lessly. 

"Nicholas  Fenn  has  had  a  hundred  thousand 
pounds  of  German  money  within  the  last  few 
months,"  she  replied.  "He  is  one  of  the  foulest 
traitors  who  ever  breathed.  Freistner's  first  few  let- 
ters were  genuine  enough,  but  for  the  last  six  weeks 
he  has  been  imprisoned  in  a  German  fortress — and 
Fenn  knows  it." 

"Have  you  any  proof  of  all  this?"  Julian  asked. 
"Remember  we  have  the  Council  to  face,  and  they 
are  all  girt  for  battle." 

"Yes,  I  have  proof,"  she  ansAvered,  "indirect  but 
damning  enough.  This  man  has  sometimes  for- 
warded and  collected  for  me  letters  from  connections 
of  mine  in  Germany.  He  handed  mc  one  to-night 
from  a  distant  cousin.  You  know  him  by  name — 
General  Geroldberg.  The  first  two  pages  are  per- 
sonal. Read  what  he  says  towards  the  end,"  she 
added,  passing  it  on  to  Julian. 

Julian  turned  up  the  lamp  and  read  the  few  lines 
to  which  she  pointed: 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  275 

Bj  the  bye,  dear  cousin,  if  you  should  receive  a 
shock  within  the  next  few  days  by  hearing  that 
our  three  great  men  have  agreed  to  an  absurd  peace, 
do  not  worry.  Their  signatures  have  been  ob- 
tained for  some  document  which  we  do  not  regard 
seriously,  and  it  is  their  intention  to  repudiate  them 
as  soon  as  a  certain  much-looked-for  event  takes 
place.  When  the  peace  comes,  believe  me,  it  will  be  a 
glorious  one  for  us.  What  we  have  won  by  the 
sword  we  shall  hold,  and  what  has  been  wrested  from 
us  by  cunning  and  treachery,  we  shall  regain. 

"That  man,"  Catherine  declared,  "is  one  of  the 
Kaiser's  intimates.  He  is  one  of  the  twelve  iron  men 
of  Germany.  Now  I  will  tell  you  the  name  of  the 
man  with  whom  I  have  spent  the  evening.  It  is 
Baron  Hellman.  Believe  me,  he  knows,  and  he  has 
told  me  the  truth.  He  has  had  this  letter  by  him  for 
a  fortnight,  as  he  told  me  frankly  that  he  thought  it 
too  compromising  to  hand  over.  To-night  he 
changed  his  mind." 

Julian  stood  speechless  for  a  moment,  his  fists 
clenched,  his  eyes  ablaze. 

Catherine  threw  herself  into  his  easy-chair  and 
loosened  her  coat. 

"Oh,  I  am  tired !"  she  moaned.  "Give  me  some 
water,  please,  or  some  wine." 

He  found  some  hock  in  the  sideboard,  and  after  she 
had  drunk  it  they  sat  for  some  few  minutes  in 
agitated  silence.  The  street  sounds  outside  had  died 
away.     Julian's  was  the  topmost  flat  in  the  block. 


g76  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

and  their  isolation  was  complete.  He  suddenly 
realised  the  position. 

"Perhaps,"  he  suggested,  with  an  almost  ludicrous 
return  to  the  commonplace,  "the  first  thing  to  be 
done  is  for  me  to  dross." 

She  looked  at  him  as  though  she  had  noticed  his 
dishabille  for  the  first  time.  For  a  moment  their 
feet  seemed  to  be  on  the  earth  again. 

"I  suppose  I  seem  to  you  crazy  to  come  to  you  at 
such  an  hour,"  she  said.  "One  doesn't  think  of  those 
things,  somehow." 

"You  are  quite  right,"  he  agreed.  "They  are  un- 
important." 

Then  suddenly  the  sense  of  the  silence,  of  their 
solitude,  of  their  strange,  uncertain  relations  to  one 
another,  swept  in  upon  them  both.  For  a  moment 
the  sense  of  the  great  burden  she  was  carrying  fell 
from  Catherine's  shoulders.  She  was  back  in  a 
simpler  world.  Julian  was  no  longer  a  leader  of 
the  people,  the  brilliant  sociologist,  the  apostle  of 
her  creed.  He  was  the  man  who  during  the  last  few 
weeks  had  monopolised  her  thoughts  to  an  amazing 
extent,  the  man  for  whose  aid  and  protection  she  had 
hastened,  the  man  to  whom  she  was  perfectly  content 
to  entrust  the  setting  right  of  this  ghastly  blunder. 
Watching  him,  she  suddenly  felt  that  she  was  tired 
of  it  all,  that  she  would  like  to  creep  away  from  the 
storm  and  rest  somewhere.  The  quiet  and  his  pres- 
ence seemed  to  soothe  her.     Her  tense  expression  re- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  277 

laxed,  her  eyes  became  softer.  She  smiled  at  him 
gratefully. 

"Oh,  I  cannot  tell  you,'*  she  exclaimed,  "how  glad 
I  am  to  be  with  you  just  now!  Everything  in  the 
outside  world  seems  so  terrible.  Do  you  mind — it 
is  so  silly,  but  after  all  a  woman  cannot  be  as  strong 
as  a  man,  can  she? — ^would  you  mind  very  much 
just  holding  my  hand  for  a  moment  and  staying 
here  quite  quietly.  I  have  had  a  horrible  evening, 
and  when  I  came  in,  my  head  felt  as  though  it  would 
burst.     You  do  not  mind?" 

Julian  smiled  as  he  leaned  towards  her.  A  kind  of 
resentment  of  which  he  had  been  conscious,  even 
though  in  some  measure  ashamed  of  it,  resentment  at 
her  unswerving  loyalty  to  the  task  she  had  set  her- 
self, melted  away.  He  suddenly  knew  why  he  had 
kissed  her,  on  that  sunny  morning  on  the  marshes, 
an  ecstatic  and  incomprehensible  moment  which  had 
seemed  sometimes,  during  these  days  of  excitement, 
as  though  it  had  belonged  to  another  life  and  an- 
other world.  He  took  both  her  hands  in  his,  and, 
stooping  down,  kissed  her  on  the  lips. 

"Dear  Catherine,"  he  said,  "I  am  so  glad  that  you 
came  to  me.  I  think  that  during  these  last  few 
days  we  have  forgotten  to  be  human,  and  it  might 
help  us — for  after  all,  you  know,  we  are  en- 
gaged !" 

"But  that,"  she  whispered,  "was  only  for  my 
sake." 


278  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"At  first,  perhaps,"  he  admitted,  "but  now  for 
mine." 

Her  little  sigh  of  content,  as  she  stole  nearer  to 
him,  was  purely  feminine.  The  moments  ticked  on 
in  restful  and  wonderful  silence.  Then,  unwillingly, 
she  drew  away  from  his  protecting  arm. 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  "you  look  so  nice  as  you 
are,  and  it  is  such  happiness  to  be  here,  but  there 
is  a  great  task  before  us." 

"You  are  right,"  he  declared,  straightening  him- 
self. "Wait  for  a  few  minutes,  dear.  We  shall  find 
them  all  at  Westminster — the  place  will  be  open  all 
night.     Close  your  eyes  and  rest  while  I  am  away." 

"I  am  rested,"  she  answered  softly,  "but  do  not 
be  long.  The  car  is  outside,  and  on  the  way  I  have 
more  to  tell  you  about  Nicholas  Fenn." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

If  the  closely  drawn  blinds  of  the  many  windows  of 
Westminster  Buildings  could  have  been  raised  that 
night  and  early  morning,  the  place  would  have  seemed 
a  very  hive  of  industry.  Twenty  men  were  hard  at 
work  in  twenty  different  rooms.  Some  went  about 
their  labours  doubtfully,  some  almost  timorously, 
some  with  jubilation,  one  or  two  with  real  regret. 
Under  their  fingers  grew  the  more  amplified  man- 
dates which,  following  upon  the  bombshell  of  the  al- 
ready prepared  telegrams,  were  within  a  few  hours 
to  paralyse  industrial  England,  to  keep  her  ships  idle 
in  the  docks,  her  trains  motionless  upon  the  rails, 
her  mines  silent,  her  forges  cold,  her  great  factories 
empty.  Even  the  least  imaginative  felt  the  thrill, 
the  awe  of  the  thing  he  was  doing.  On  paper,  in  the 
brain,  it  seemed  so  wonderful,  so  logical,  so  certain 
of  the  desired  result.  And  now  there  were  other 
thoughts  forcing  their  way  to  the  front.  How  would 
their  names  live  in  history?  How  would  English- 
men throughout  the  world  regard  this  deed?  Was 
it  really  the  truth  they  were  following,  or  some 
false  and  ruinous  shadow?  These  were  fugitive 
doubts,  perhaps,  but  to  more  than  one  of  those  mid- 
night toilers  they  presented  themselves  in  the  guise 
of  a  chill  and  drear  presentiment. 


280  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

They  all  heard  a  motor-car  stop  outside.  No  one, 
however,  thought  it  worth  while  to  discontinue  his 
labours  for  long  enough  to  look  out  and  see  who  this 
nocturnal  visitor  might  be.  In  a  very  short  time, 
however,  these  labours  were  disturbed.  From  room 
to  room,  Julian,  with  Catherine  and  the  Bishop,  for 
whom  they  had  called  on  the  way,  passed  with  a  brief 
message.  No  one  made  any  difficulty  about  coming 
to  the  Council  room.  The  first  protest  was  made 
when  they  paid  the  visit  which  they  had  purposely 
left  until  last.  Nicholas  Fenn  had  apparently  fin- 
ished or  discontinued  his  efl'orts.  He  was  seated  in 
front  of  his  desk,  his  chin  almost  resting  upon  his 
folded  arms,  and  a  cigarette  between  his  lips. 
Bright  was  lounging  in  an  easy-chair  within  a  few 
feet  of  him.  Their  heads  were  close  together ;  their 
conversation,  whatever  the  subject  of  it  may  have 
been,  was  conducted  in  whispers.  Apparently  they 
had  not  heard  Julian's  knock,  for  they  started  apart, 
when  the  door  was  opened,  like  conspirators.  There 
was  something  half-fearful,  half-malicious  in  Fenn's 
face,  as  he  stared  at  them. 

"What  are  you  doing  here.'"'  he  demanded. 
"What's  wrong?" 

Julian  closed  the  door. 

"A  great  deal,"  he  replied  curtly.  "We  have 
been  around  to  every  one  of  the  delegates  and  asked 
them  to  assemble  in  the  Council  room.  Will  you  and 
Bright  come  at  once?" 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  281 

Fenn  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  his  visitors 
and  remained  silent  for  a  few  seconds. 

"Climbing  down,  eh?"  he  asked  viciously. 

"We  have  some  information  to  communicate," 
Julian  announced. 

Fenn  moved  abruptly  away,  out  of  the  shadow  of 
the  electric  lamp  which  hung  over  his  desk.  His 
voice  was  anxious,  unnatural. 

"We  can't  consider  any  more  information,"  he 
said  harshly.  "Our  decisions  have  been  taken. 
Nothing  can  affect  them.  That's  the  worst  of  hav- 
ing you  outsiders  on  the  board.  I  was  certain  you 
wouldn't  face  it  when  the  time  came." 

"As  you  yourself,"  Julian  remarked,  "are  some- 
what concerned  in  this  matter,  I  think  it  would  be 
well  if  you  came  with  the  others." 

"I  am  not  going  to  stir  from  this  room,"  Fenn  de- 
clared doggedly.  "I  have  my  own  work  to  do.  And 
as  to  my  being  concerned  with  what  you  have  to 
say,  I'll  thank  you  to  mind  your  own  business  and 
leave  mine  alone." 

"Mr.  Fenn,"  the  Bishop  interposed,  "I  beg  to  offer 
you  my  advice — that  you  join  us  at  once  in  the 
Council  room." 

Julian  and  Catherine  had  already  left  the  room. 
Fenn  leaned  forward,  and  there  was  an  altered  note 
in  his  tone. 

"What's  it  mean.  Bishop?"  he  asked  hoarsely. 
**Are  they  ratting,  those  two?" 


«82  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

"What  we  have  come  here  to  say,"  the  Bishop 
rejoined,  "must  be  said  to  every  one." 

He  turned  away.  Fenn  and  Bright  exchanged 
quick  glances. 

"What  do  you  make  of  it?"  asked  Fenn. 

"They've  changed  their  minds,"  Bright  muttered, 
*'that's  all.  They're  theorists.  Damn  all  theorists ! 
They  just  blow  bubbles  to  destroy  them.  As  for  the 
girl,  she's  been  at  parties  all  the  evening,  as  we 
know." 

"You're  right,"  Fenn  acknowledged.  "I  was  a 
fool.     Come  on." 

Many  of  the  delegates  had  the  air  of  being  glad 
to  escape  for  a  few  minutes  from  their  tasks.  One 
or  two  of  them  entered  the  room,  carrying  a  cup 
of  coffee  or  cocoa.  Most  of  them  were  smoking. 
Fenn  and  Bright  made  their  appearance  last  of  all. 
The  latter  made  a  feeble  attempt  at  a  good-humoured 
remark. 

"Is  this  a  pause  for  refreshments  ?"  he  asked.  *'If 
so,  I'm  on." 

Julian,  who  had  been  waiting  near  the  door,  locked 
it.     Fenn  started, 

"What  the  devil's  that  for.?"  he  demanded. 

"Just  a  precaution.  We  don't  want  to  be  in- 
terrupted." 

Julian  moved  towards  a  little  vacant  space  at  the 
end  of  the  table  and  stood  ther«,  his  hands  upon  the 
back  of  a  chair.     The  Bishop  remained  by  his  side, 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

his  eyes  downcast  as  though  in  prayer.  Catherine 
had  accepted  the  seat  pushed  forward  by  Cross. 
The  atmosphere  of  the  room,  which  at  first  had  been 
only  expectant,  became  tense. 

"My  friends,"  Julian  began,  "a  few  hours  ago  you 
came  to  a  momentous  decision.  You  are  all  at  work, 
prepared  to  carry  that  decision  into  effect.  I  have 
come  to  see  you  because  I  am  very  much  afraid  that 
we  have  been  the  victims  of  false  statements,  the  vic- 
tims of  a  disgraceful  plot." 

"Rubbish !"  Fenn  scoffed.  "You're  ratting,  that's 
what  you  are." 

"You'd  better  thank  Providence,"  Julian  replied 
sternly,  "that  there  is  time  for  you  to  rat,  too — 
that  is,  if  you  have  any  care  for  your  country. 
Now,  Mr.  Fenn,  I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  question. 
You  led  us  to  believe,  this  evening,  that,  although  all 
letters  had  been  destroyed,  you  were  in  constant 
communication  with  Freistner.  When  did  you  hear 
from  him  last — personally,  I  mean.'"' 

"Last  week,"  Fenn  answered  boldly,  "and  the  week 
before  that." 

"And  you  have  destroyed  those  letters.''" 

"Of  course  I  have!  Why  should  I  keep  stuff 
about  that  would  hang  me.'*" 

"You  cannot  produce,  then,  any  communication 
from  Freistner,  except  the  proposals  of  peace,  writ- 
ten within  the  last — say — month.'"' 

"What  the  mischief  are  you  getting  at.''"  Fenn 


2S4>  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

demanded  hotly.     "And  what  right  have  you  to  ^tand 
there  and  cross-question  me?" 

"The  right  of  being  prepared  to  call  you  to  your 
face  a  liar,"  Julian  said  gravely.  "We  have  very 
certain  information  that  Freistner  is  now  impris- 
oned in  a  German  fortress  and  will  be  shot  before  the 
week  is  out." 

There  was  a  little  murmur  of  consternation,  even 
of  disbelief.  Fenn  himself  was  speechless.  Julian 
went  on  eagerly. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  "on  paper,  on  the  facts 
submitted  to  us,  we  took  the  right  decision,  but  we 
ought  to  have  remembered  this.  Germany's  word, 
Germany's  signature,  Germany's  honour,  are  not 
wo'rth  a  rap  M'lien  opposed  to  German  interests. 
Germany,  notwithstanding  all  her  successes,  is  thirst- 
ing for  peace.  This  armistice  would  be  her  salva- 
tion. She  set  herself  out  to  get  it — not  honestly, 
as  we  have  been  led  to  believe,  but  by  means  of  a  dev- 
ilish plot.  She  professed  to  be  overawed  by  the 
peace  desires  of  the  Reichstag.  The  Pan-Germans 
professed  a  desire  to  give  in  to  the  Socialists.  All 
lies !  They  encouraged  Freistner  to  continue  his  ne- 
gotiations here  with  Fenn.  Freistner  was  honest 
enough.     I  am  not  so  sure  about  Fenn." 

Fenn  sprang  to  his  feet,  a  blasphemous  exclama- 
tion broke  from  his  lips.  Julian  faced  him,  unmoved. 
The  atmosphere  of  the  room  was  now  electric. 

"I  am  going  to  finish  what  I  have  to  say,"  he  went 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  286 

on.  "I  know  that  every  one  will  wish  me  to.  We 
are  all  here  to  look  for  the  truth  and  nothing  else, 
and,  thanks  to  Miss  Abbeway,  we  have  stumbled  upon 
it.  These  peace  proposals,  which  look  so  well  on 
])aper,  are  a  decoy.  They  were  made  to  be  broken. 
Those  signatures  are  affixed  to  be  repudiated.  I  say 
that  Freistner  has  been  a  prisoner  for  weeks,  and  I 
deny  that  Fenn  has  received  a  single  communication 
from  him  during  that  time.  Fenn  asserts  that  he 
has,  but  has  destroyed  them.  I  repeat  that  he  is  a 
liar." 

"That's  plain  speaking,"  Cross  declared.  "Now, 
then,  Fenn,  lad,  what  have  you  to  say  about  it.?" 

Fenn  leaned  forward,  his  face  distorted  with  some- 
thing which  might  have  been  anger,  but  which  seemed 
more  closely  to  resemble  fear. 

"This  is  just  part  of  the  ratting!"  he  exclaimed. 
"I  never  keep  a  communication  from  Freistner.  I 
have  told  you  so  before.  The  preliminary  letters 
I  had  you  all  saw,  and  we  deliberated  upon  them  to- 
gether. Since  then,  all  that  I  have  had  have  been 
friendly  messages,  which  I  have  destroyed." 

There  was  a  little  uncertain  murmur.  Julian 
proceeded. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  "Mr.  Fenn  is  not  able  to  clear 
himself  from  my  first  accusation.  Now  let  us  hear 
what  he  will  do  with  this  one.  Mr.  Fenn  started  life, 
I  believe,  as  a  schoolmaster  at  a  parish  school,  a  very 
laudable  and  excellent  occupation.     He  subsequently 


286  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

became  manager  to  a  firm  of  timber  merchants  in  the 
city  and  commenced  to  interest  himself  in  Labour 
movements.  He  rose  by  industry  and  merit  to  his 
present  position — a  very  excellent  career,  but  not,  I 
should  think,  a  remunerative  one.  Shall  we  put  his 
present  salary  down  at  ten  pounds  a  week.'*" 

"What  the  devil  concern  is  this  of  yours?"  the 
goaded  man  shouted. 

"Of  mine  and  all  of  us,"  Julian  retorted,  "for  I 
come  now  to  a  certain  question.  Will  you  disclose 
your  bank  book?" 

Fenn  reeled  for  a  moment  in  his  seat.  He  af- 
fected not  to  have  heard  the  question. 

"My  what?"  he  stammered. 

"Your  bank  book,"  Julian  repeated  calmly.  "As 
you  only  received  your  last  instalment  from  Germany 
this  week,  you  probably  have  not  yet  had  time  to 
purchase  stocks  and  shares  or  property  wherever 
your  inclination  leads  you.  I  imagine,  therefore, 
that  there  would  be  a  balance  there  of  something 
like  thirty  thousand  pounds,  the  last  payment  made 
to  you  by  a  German  agent  now  in  London." 

Fenn  sprang  to  his  feet.  He  had  all  the  appear- 
ance of  a  man  about  to  make  a  vigorous  and  exhaus- 
tive defence.  And  then  suddenly  he  swayed,  his  face 
became  horrible  to  look  upon,  his  lips  were  twisted. 

"Brandy!"  he  cried.  "Some  one  give  me  brandy! 
I  am  ill!" 

He  collapsed  in  a  heap.     They  carried  him  on  to 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  287 

a  seat  set  against  the  wall,  and  Catherine  bent  over 
him.  He  lay  there,  moaning.  They  loosened  his 
collar  and  poured  restoratives  between  his  teeth. 
For  a  time  he  was  silent.  Then  the  moaning  began 
again.     Julian   returned   to   the   table. 

"Believe  me,"  he  said  earnestly,  "this  is  as  much 
a  tragedy  to  me  as  to  any  one  present.  I  believe 
that  every  one  of  you  here  except — "  he  glanced 
towards  the  sofa — "except  those  whom  we  will  not 
name  have  gone  into  this  matter  honestly,  as  I  did. 
We've  got  to  chuck  it.  Tear  up  your  telegrams. 
Let  me  go  to  see  Stenson  this  minute.  I  see  the 
truth  about  this  thing  now  as  I  never  saw  it  before. 
There  is  no  peace  for  us  with  Germany  until  she 
is  on  her  knees,  until  we  have  taken  away  all  her 
power  to  do  further  mischief.  When  that  time  comes 
let  us  be  generous.  Let  us  remember  that  her  work- 
ing men  are  of  the  same  flesh  and  blood  as  ours  and 
need  to  live  as  you  need  to  live.  Let  us  see  that  they 
are  left  the  means  to  live.  Mercy  to  all  of  them — 
mercy,  and  all  the  possibilities  of  a  free  and  generous 
life.  But  to  Hell  with  every  one  of  those  who  are 
responsible  for  the  poison  which  has  crept  through- 
out all  ranks  in  Germany,  which,  starting  from  the 
Kaiser  and  his  friends,  has  corrupted  first  the  proud 
aristocracy,  then  the  industrious,  hard-working  and 
worthy  middle  classes,  and  has  even  permeated  to 
some  extent  the  ranks  of  the  people  themselves, 
destined  by  their  infamous  ruler  to  carry  on  their 


288  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

shoulders  the  burden  of  an  unnatural,  ungodly,  and 
unholy  ambition.  There  is  much  that  I  ought  to 
say,  but  I  fancy  that  I  have  said  enough.  Germany 
must  be  broken,  and  you  can  do  it.  Let  the  memory 
of  those  undispatched  telegrams  help  you.  Spend 
your  time  amongst  the  men  you  represent.  Make 
them  see  the  truth.  Make  them  understand  that 
every  burden  they  lift,  every  time  they  wield  the 
pickaxe,  every  blow  they  strike  in  their  daily  work, 
helps.  I  was  going  to  speak  about  what  we  owe 
to  the  dead.  I  won't.  We  must  beat  Germany  to 
her  knees.  We  can  and  we  will.  Then  will  come  the 
time  for  generosity." 

Phineas  Cross  struck  the  table  with  the  flat  of  his 
hand. 

"Boys,"  he  said,  "I  feel  the  sweat  in  every  pore  of 
my  body.  We've  nigh  done  a  horrible  thing.  We 
are  with  you,  Mr.  Orden.  But  about  that  little 
skunk  there?     How  did  you  find  him  out?" 

"Through  Miss  Abbeway,"  Julian  answered. 
"You  have  her  to  thank.  I  can  assure  you  that 
every  charge  I  have  made  can  be  substantiated." 

There  was  a  little  murmur  of  confidence.  Every- 
one seemed  to  find  speech  difficult. 

"One  word  more,"  Julian  went  on.  "Don't  dis- 
band this  Council.  Keep  it  together,  just  as  it  is. 
Keep  this  building.  Keep  our  association  and  sanc- 
tify it  to  one  purpose — victory." 

A  loud  clamour  of  applause  answered  him.     Once 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  989 

more  Cross  glanced  towards  the  prostrate  form  upon 
the  sofa. 

"Let  no  one  interfere,"  Julian  enjoined.  "There 
is  an  Act  which  will  deal  with  him.  He  will  be  re- 
moved from  this  place  presently,  and  he  will  not 
be  heard  of  again  for  a  little  time.  We  don't  want 
a  soul  to  know  how  nearly  we  were  duped.  It  rests 
with  every  one  of  you  to  destroy  all  the  traces  of 
what  might  have  happened.  You  can  do  this  if 
you  will.  To-morrow  call  a  meeting  of  the  Council. 
Appoint  a  permanent  chairman,  a  new  secretary, 
draw  out  a  syllabus  of  action  for  promoting  in- 
creased production,  for  stimulating  throughout  every 
industry  a  passionate  desire  for  victory.  If  speak- 
ing, writing,  or  help  of  mine  in  any  way  is  wanted, 
it  is  3'ours.  I  will  willingly  be  a  disciple  of  the  cause. 
But  this  morning  let  me  be  your  ambassador.  Let 
me  go  to  the  Premier  with  a  message  from  you.  Let 
me  tell  him  what  you  have  resolved." 

"Hands  up  all  in  favour!"  Cross  exclaimed. 

Every  hand  was  raised.  Bright  came  back  from 
the  couch,  blinking  underneath  his  heavy  spectacles 
but  meekly  acquiescent. 

"Let  us  remember  this  hour,"  the  Bishop  begged, 
"as  something  solemn  in  our  lives.  The  Council  of 
Labour  shall  justify  itself,  shall  voice  the  will  of 
the  people,  fighting  for  victory." 

"For  the  Peace  which  comes  through  Victory !" 
Julian  echoed. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

The  Bishop  and  Catherine,  a  few  weeks  later, 
walked  side  hy  side  up  the  murky  length  of  St.  Pan- 
eras  platform.  The  train  which  they  had  come  to 
meet  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour  late,  and  they  had 
fallen  into  a  sort  of  reminiscent  conversation  which 
was  not  without  interest  to  both  of  them. 

*'I  left  Mr.  Stenson  only  an  hour  ago,"  the  Bishop 
observed.  "He  could  talk  about  nothing  but  Julian 
Orden  and  his  wonderful  speeches.  They  say  that 
at  Sheffield  and  Newcastle  the  enthusiasm  was  tre- 
mendous, and  at  three  shipbuilding  yards  on  the 
Clyde  the  actual  work  done  for  the  week  after  his 
visit  was  nearly  as  much  again.  He  seems  to  have 
that  extraordinary  gift  of  talking  straight  to  the 
hearts  of  the  men.     He  makes  them  feel." 

"Mr.  Stenson  wrote  me  about  it,"  Catherine  told 
her  companion,  with  a  little  smile.  "He  said  that 
no  dignity  that  could  be  thought  of  or  invented  would 
be  an  adequate  offering  to  Julian  for  his  services  to 
the  country.  For  the  first  time  since  the  war.  La- 
bour seems  wholly  and  entirely,  passionately  almost, 
in  earnest.  Every  one  of  those  delegates  went  back 
full  of  enthusiasm,  and  with  every  one  of  them, 
Julian,  before  he  has  finished,  is  going  to  make  a 
little  tour  in  his  own  district." 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  291 

"And  after  to-morrow,"  the  Bishop  remarked  with 
a  smile,  "I  suppose  he  will  not  be  alone." 

She  pressed  his  arm. 

"It  is  very  wonderful  to  think  about,"  she  said 
quietly.  "I  am  going  to  try  and  be  Julian's  secre- 
tary'— whilst  we  are  away,  at  any  rate." 

^'It  isn't  often,"  the  Bishop  reflected,  "that  I  have 
the  chance  of  a  few  minutes'  quiet  conversation,  on 
the  day  before  her  wedding,  with  the  woman  whom 
I  am  going  to  marry  to  the  man  I  think  most  of  on 
earth." 

"Give  me  some  good  advice,"  she  begged. 

The  Bishop   shook  his  head. 

"You  don't  need  it,"  he  said.  **A  wife  who  loves 
her  husband  needs  very  few  words  of  admonition. 
There  are  marriages  so  often  in  which  one  can  see 
the  rocks  ahead  that  one  opens  one's  prayer-book, 
even,  with  a  little  tremor  of  fear.  But  with  you  and 
Julian  it  is  different." 

"There  is  nothing  that  a  woman  can  do  for  the 
man  whom  she  loves,"  she  declared  softly,  "which  I 
shall  not  try  to  do  for  Julian." 

They  paced  up  and  down  for  a  few  moments  in 
silence.  The  Bishop's  step  was  almost  buoyant. 
He  seemed  to  have  lost  all  that  weary  load  of  anxiety 
which  had  weighed  him  down  during  the  last  few 
months.  Catherine,  too,  in  her  becoming  grey  furs, 
her  face  flushed  with  excitement,  had  the  air  of  one 
who  has  thrown  all  anxiety  to  the  winds. 


292  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

**Jiilian's  gift  of  speech  must  have  surprised  even 
himself,"  the  Bishop  remarked.  "Of  course,  we  al- 
ways knew  that  'Paul  Fiske',  when  he  was  found, 
must  be  a  brilliant  person,  but  I  don't  think  that  even 
Julian  himself  had  any  suspicion  of  his  oratorical 
powers." 

"I  don't  think  he  had,"  she  agreed.  "In  his  first 
letter  he  told  me  that  it  was  just  like  sitting  down 
at  his  desk  to  write,  except  that  all  the  dull  material 
impedimenta  of  paper  and  ink  and  walls  seemed 
rolled  away,  and  the  men  to  whom  he  wished  his 
words  to  travel  were  there  waiting.  Of  course,  he  is 
wonderful,  but  Phineas  Cross,  David  Sands  and  some 
of  the  others  have  shown  a  positive  genius  for  or- 
ganisation. That  Council  of  Socialism,  Trades 
Unionism,  and  Labour  generally,  which  was  formed 
to  bring  us  premature  peace,  seems  for  the  first  time 
to  have  brought  all  Labour  into  one  party.  Labour 
in   its   very   broadest   sense,   I   mean." 

"The  truth  of  the  matter  is,"  the  Bishop  pro- 
nounced, "that  the  people  have  accepted  the  dictum 
that  whatever  form  of  republicanism  is  aimed  at, 
there  must  be  government.  A  body  of  men  who 
realise  that,  however  advanced  their  ideas,  can  do  but 
little  harm.  I  am  perfectly  certain — Stenson  ad- 
mits it  himself — that  before  very  long  we  shall  have  a 
Labour  Ministry.  Who  cares?  It  will  probably  be 
a  good  ministr}' — good  for  the  country  and  good  for 
the  world.     There  has  been  too  much  juggling  in  in- 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  293 

temational  politics.  This  war  is  going  to  end  that, 
once  and  for  ever.  Bj  the  bye,"  he  went  on,  in  an 
altered  tone,  "there  is  one  question  which  I  have  al- 
ways had  in  my  mind  to  ask  you.  If  I  do  so  now, 
will  you  please  understand  that  if  you  think  it  best 
you  need  not  answer  me?" 

''Certainly,"  Catherine  replied. 

"From  what  source  did  you  get  your  information 
which  saved  us  aU?" 

"It  came  to  me  from  a  man  who  is  dead,"  was  the 
quiet  answer. 

The  Bishop  looked  steadily  ahead  at  the  row  of 
signal  lights. 

"There  was  a  young  foreigner,  some  weeks  ago," 
he  said  "a  Baron  Hellman — quite  a  distinguished 
person,  I  believe — who  was  discovered  shot  in  his 
rooms." 

She  acquiesced  silently. 

"If  you  were  to  go  to  the  Home  Office  and  were 
able  to  persuade  them  to  treat  you  candidly,  I  think 
that  you  could  discover  some  wonderful  things,"  she 
confided.  "I  wish  I  could  believe  that  the  Baron 
was  the  only  one  who  has  been  living  in  this  country, 
unsuspected,  and  occupying  a  prominent  position, 
who  was  really  in  the  pay  of  Germany." 

"It  was  a  very  subtle  conspirac}',"  the  Bishop  re- 
marked thoughtfully,  "subtle  because,  in  a  sense,  it 
appeared  so  genuine.  It  appealed  to  the  very  best 
instincts  of  thinking  men." 


'294  THE  DEVIL'S  PAW 

**Goo<i  has  come  out  of  it,  at  any  rate,"  she  re- 
tainded  him.  "Westminster  Buildings  is  now  the 
centre  of  patriotic  England.  Labour  was  to  have 
brought  the  war  to  an  end — for  Germany.  It  is 
Labour  which  is  going  to  win  the  victory — for 
England." 

The  train  rolled  into  the  station  and  rapidly  dis- 
gorged its  crowd  of  passengers,  amongst  whom 
Julian  was  one  of  the  first  to  alight.  Catherine 
found  herself  trembling.  The  shy  words  of  welcome 
which  had  formed  themselves  in  her  mind  died  away 
on  her  lips  as  their  glances  met.  She  lifted  her  face 
to  his. 

"Julian,"  she  murmured,  "I  am  so  proud — so 
happy." 

The  Bishop  left  them  as  they  stepped  into  their 
cab. 

"I  am  going  to  a  mission  room  in  the  neighbour- 
hood," he  explained.  "We  have  war  talks  every 
week.  I  try  to  tell  them  how  things  are  going  on, 
and  we  have  a  short  service.  But  before  I  go,  Mr. 
Stenson  has  sent  you  a  little  message,  Julian.  If 
you  go  to  your  club  later  on  to-night,  you  will  see  it 
in  the  telegrams,  or  you  will  find  it  in  your  newspa- 
pers in  the  morning.  There  has  been  wonderful 
fighting  in  Flanders  to-day.  The  German  line  has 
been  broken  at  half  a  dozen  points.  We  have  taken 
nearly  twenty  thousand  prisoners,  and  Zeebrugge  is 
threatened.     Farther    south,    the    Americans    have 


THE  DEVIL'S  PAW  295 

made  their  start  and  have  won  a  complete  victory 
over  the  Crown  Prince's  picked  troops." 

The  two  men  wrung  hands. 

"This,"  Julian  declared,  "is  the  only  way  to 
Peace." 


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